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THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS 







THE 


Flower Girl of Paris 


(BAS KIND DER STRASSE.) 


By PAUL SCHOBERT. 


TRANSLATED BY LAURA E. KENDALL. 









y 


t 


CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: 

Rand, McNally h. Company, Publishers. 

1 893 . 


Copyright, 1893, by Rand, McNally & Co. 


Flower Girl of Paris. 


The Flower Girl of Paris. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ Nonsense! Achilles, you must have lost your mind! ” 

“Very possibly; but she must have red hair and green 
eyes, all the same. Bah! blondes and brunettes may be 
had by the dozen, but red hair and green eyes! Think 
what a sensation such a woman would create! All the 
young swells would adore her; all the artists go mad over 
her; all Paris rave about her, and I — ” 

“You would be just as much of a fool as all the rest of 
them, I haven’t a doubt.” 

And the speaker’s thin lip curled contemptuously as he 
turned his attention to the crowd that thronged the boule- 
vard. 

“I?” sighed Prince Arbanoff, fixing his glass more 
securely in his eye; “ well, I should at least try to be. Per- 
haps I might succeed just once more — for the last time, 
you know.” 

Viscount Anatole Leroy merely shrugged his shoulders 
by way of response. He was too accustomed to these 
eccentric whims on his friend’s part to consider this one 
worthy of any further notice, as the two men continued 
their leisurely walk down the boulevard, which presented a 
brilliant spectacle at this hour of the day. 

Achilles Arbanoff was a Russian, and showed unmistak- 
able signs of his Sarmatian origin. His face, though hand- 
some, had a worn and haggard look, his eyes gazed out 
languidly from beneath heavy, half-closed lids, and though 
his form was really a model of manly strength and beauty, 
he carried himself in a careless, even slouching manner. 
As his sole aim in life was the squandering of his immense 
income, his existence had been, as yet, merely a round of 
pleasures, and he deemed it quite an honor to be able to 

( 6 ) 


6 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


keep all Paris talking about his extravagance. This being 
his principal and, in fact, his sole occupation, it is little 
wonder that he had become reckless and thoroughly blase — 
an old man long before he reached his prime — for he was 
not yet thirty — and while his father was still ruling his 
peasants, and hunting wolves on the Russian steppes. 

Anatole Leroy, on the contrary — who, by the way, was an 
attache of legation stationed in Paris — was small of stature, 
and carried himself in a stiff, almost pompous manner. He 
had a thin, sallow face of a rather effeminate type, with a 
slightly sardonic expression lurking about the mouth, and 
clear, piercing eyes that allowed nothing to escape them. 
Unlike his friend, he was poor, but consumed with ambi- 
tion, and though he naturally possessed strong passions, he 
was endowed with even stronger self-control. 

He called himself Achilles’ friend, and in this character 
he made the most of the opportunities this friendship 
afforded him, thus enjoying many pleasures from which he 
would otherwise have been debarred. He read Achilles’ 
character as plainly as if through a glass, while his own 
was an unsolved enigma to his friend, who really knew very 
little of him beyond the brand of cigars and cigarettes he 
preferred to smoke. 

Achilles cut the air lightly with his cane. 

“You sneer at my ideal of feminine loveliness, of 
course,” he remarked, “but just wait until you have seen it, 
Anatole; seen the charming face, the softly rounded cheeks, 
rich auburn tresses, and eyes — ” 

“ Oh, yes, I thought as much. The green-eyed siren 
lives. May I take the liberty of asking where?” 

And again Leroy’s lip curled scornfully at his com- 
panion’s folly. 

“ By Jove, if I knew, I shouldn’t be here! No, when I 
was a boy I found a picture in one of the lumber rooms in 
our old castle. I dragged it to the light, and lost my heart 
then and there to a lovely face I have never been able to 
get out of my mind since. The principal charm of the 
picture lay in the rich auburn hair and lustrous green eyes, 
that seemed positively to flash when a ray of sunshine fell 
upon them. The lovely head stood out clearly against a rich 
background of purple velvet, and I have never seen any 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


7 


face in real life to compare with it, though I have searched 
far and wide.” 

“Flowers, gentlemen; buy some flowers.” 

A dirty little hand held up a fragrant bunch of violets 
before the gentlemen, as its owner tripped along beside 
them. “Only one franc, gentlemen; only one franc!” 

Anatole Leroy silently pushed the child aside with his 
gold-headed cane, but Achilles fumbled in his overcoat 
pocket for a coin. 

“ Let the brat alone, we’re blocking the way,” exclaimed 
the attache impatiently. 

But Arbanoff’s movement had not escaped the keen eyes 
of the child, who made her way through th^ crowd with the 
litheness of an eel, and in another second Achilles again 
saw the same dirty little hand outstretched, again inhaled 
the perfume of the violets, and heard the pleading voice 
exclaim: 

“Flowers, sir; flowers! ” 

He looked down at his little persecutor, then — 

“Hold!” he cried, clutching his friend’s arm convul- 
sively, “ here is my picture in the flesh! ” 

The child’s big eyes were gazing straight up into his, and 
her feminine instinct told her that she was not unpleasing 
in this stranger’s sight in spite of her rags and dirt. She 
had a big basket suspended from her neck, her small feet 
were incased in dilapidated shoes much too large for 
her, and a short shabby coat covered her shoulders. She 
was shivering with cold, for the air was chilly and the sun set 
early, and its last declining rays fell on the short curly dis- 
ordered hair converting it into burnished gold, and there was 
an unmistakable greenish tint in the eyes, which shone out 
brightly from beneath long red-brown lashes. 

Prince Achilles gazed at her with all his eyes. 

“Come here, child, and tell me your name,” he said, per- 
suasively. 

She stepped to his side without the slightest hesitation, 
Anatole biting his nether lip angrily all the while, though 
he submitted to his friend’s whim. 

“ Fernande, sir,” she replied, in a thin childish treble, 
“and the flowers are only one franc.” 

“ How I should like to see her with her face washed and 


8 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


her head rising out of folds of purple velvet. You have no 
idea how striking the likeness would be! Suppose we take 
her along with us and try the experiment.” 

“ How utterly absurd! Don’t make yourself a laughing 
stock, Achilles, I beg of you. I am on pins and needles 
now.” 

He seized Arbanoff by the arm, and glancing back over 
his shoulder at the child, said harshly: 

“ Here are ten francs. Make haste now, and get out of 
our way! ” 

Fernande snatched up the coin and instantly stepped 
aside, her eyes sparkling with joy. 

“Come, Achilles, let’s go on.” 

“ I’ll do nothing of the kind. I say, Ferra, my carriage 
is waiting a little farther on, won’t you come with me? ” 

“Yes,” replied the child, promptly, with the gold coin 
clasped tightly in her hand and the fragrant blossoms 
pressed to her bosom. The gentlemen were so liberal, 
and one of them in particular seemed so very friendly, that 
she felt no fear. 

“ Are you mad, Achilles? ” cried the little attache, over- 
whelmed with consternation. “ This will furnish another 
piquant paragraph for the newspapers. I suppose you’ll be 
taking this beggar-brat by the hand and leading her to 
your carriage next. I want you to understand once for all 
that I draw the line there. It is a little too much.” 

“ Nonsense, Anatole,” said Prince Arbanoff, tightening 
his hold on his friend’s arm, “you must come with us. 
Only think what a piece of good fortune, wonderful good 
fortune, this is! Run on ahead, child, as far as the corner 
of the next street,” he added, “ and wait for us, do you 
hear! ” 

She nodded assent, and tripped on a little in advance of 
them, lithe and graceful as a fairy, but as dirty as a child 
could be. Anatole followed with the air of a martyr. 

“ I can’t understand what you are thinking of, Achilles.” 

“ Didn’t you notice her face? It is perfectly lovely.” 

“She is nothing but a dirty little vagabond; besides, 
she will certainly infect your carriage.” 

This alarming prediction did not appear to frighten the 
prince in the least. He placed the child on the rich blue 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


9 


satin cushions; the two gentlemen followed her and were 
driven swiftly in the direction of the Arbanoff palace. 

The viscount sat far back in his corner of the vehicle 
with his perfumed handkerchief pressed tightly to his nose, 
but the prince did not take his eyes off the child, who 
gazed out wonderingly through the closed windows at the 
streets and houses, which seemed to fly by as the carriage 
pursued its swift course. She was in a carriage for the first 
time in her life, and her wonder and delight were very 
clearly mirrored on her expressive face. 

At last the vehicle paused, and the prince handed the 
child over to his valet with orders to take her to Mademoi- 
selle Clarisse, the housekeeper, and have heT carefully 
bathed and dressed. 

Ivan laughed a little as he rapped at rnademoiselle’s 
door, but that lady, who opened it in person, cast "a look of 
astonishment and disgust at the little waif beside him. 
“Ivan, what on earth did you bring that creature here for? “ 
she asked, angrily. “She has no business here. Take her 
away at once. Good heavens! take her away, I say.” 

“ Not just yet,” responded Ivan, composedly. “You see 
his highness has given orders that the child should come 
to you to be washed and dressed and then be brought 
back to him.” 

“But Ivan! you certainly must have misunderstood him. 
His highness can’t have meant it. This dirty bundle of 
rags! I really can’t bring myself to touch her. I’m the 
housekeeper of the Arbanoff palace, and such a creature as 
this — really, Ivan — ” 

The elderly spinster spoke in a tone of gentle helpless- 
ness, though she was generally on anything but friendly 
terms with the servants. The order really seemed to have 
cut her to the heart, 

“ An order is an order, you know,” Ivan replied, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. “But why don’t you send for Ninon. 
She’s doing nothing, and it’s only right you should have 
help. Where his highness picked the child up, I can’t 
imagine,” he added, half growlingly, half wonderingly. 

Ferra stood silent and motionless, her big shining 
eyes roving eagerly from object to object, and finally fixing 
themselves upon the two persons who so openly despised 


10 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


her. Their scorn troubled her very little however, she was 
too accustomed to unfriendly looks. 

Besides, was this not exactly like one of those delightful 
fairy tales which the old lame woman who made artificial 
flowers up in the garret sometimes told her, and to which 
she always listened with breathless attention? Yes, she 
was more than content. It must be better here than in the 
cold damp basement with a drunken father, and a mother 
who was always either crying or asleep. Without a 
word she allowed herself to be thoroughly bathed and 
dressed afresh from head to foot, and half an hour later 
she was standing in front of Mademoiselle Clarisse’s big 
cheval glass deeply engaged in contemplating herself and 
in watching the movements of Ninon’s dexterous fingers as 
that clever maid put the finishing touches to her toilet. 

Was this really Ferra, the dirty, ragged, little flower girl 
that had roamed the streets of Paris hitherto unwashed and 
uncombed? What a wonder the fine soft linen seemed as 
it slipped down from her shoulder revealing flesh as soft 
and delicately tinted as that of a ripe peach. She was as 
lithe and slender as a gazelle; she possessed the rich 
auburn hair and lustrous beryl-hued eyes of the famous 
picture, and no matter how persistently Ninon brushed and 
combed, the child’s hair would wave and curl about her 
neck and brow forming a sort of natural aureole. 

As she stood there marveling at her own loveliness, Ivan, 
who had just entered the room, coughing discreetly behind 
his hand, glanced inquiringly at Mademoiselle Clarisse as 
if asking what she thought of her charge now, but the 
spinster, who was also gazing into the mirror, answered never 
a word even when he whispered: 

“ His highness certainly has keen eyes, wonderfully 
keen eyes! ” 


CHAPTER II. 

In a large, magnificently furnished room, pleasantly heated 
by a bright wood fire. Viscount Anatole Leroy sat near the 
crackling blaze with a book in his hand. He had dispelled 
the plebeian odor that had so offended his aristocratic nos- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


11 


trils with floods of Jockey Club and Cologne water, and 
had well-nigh regained his wonted equanimity. Achilles, 
meanwhile, was pacing the room impatiently. 

“Upon my word! one would suppose you expected that 
the next hour would bring startling developments,” 
remarked the diplomat, sarcastically, throwing aside his 
book. “This whole affair, about which you have allowed 
yourself to become so excited, is utterly absurd.” 

The prince was about to reply, but just then a knock was 
heard. Ivan opened the door, and silently pushing Ferra 
over the threshold, withdrew with a respectful bow. The 
child stood perfectly motionless, and as the bright glow of 
the fire streamed on her face and her rich masses of auburn 
hair. Prince Achilles turned triumphantly to his friend, and 
exultantly exclaimed: 

“Well, what do you say now? ” 

“ If she goes on as she has begun, she will be very hand- 
some by and by, but she is only a child now, and it is very 
hard to judge.” 

“ How old are you, Ferra? Come nearer,don’tbe afraid.” 
said the prince, extending his well-kept hand in a friendly 
fashion to the child, who promptly obeyed. 

“ About eight years old, mother says.” 

“ Are you hungry? ” 

This question was suggested by the longing looks that 
the child had cast into the adjoining room, where a well- 
spread table stood, richly decked out with Venetian glass 
and gleaming silver. 

“ Please, sir, I am always hungry,” she replied, evidently 
delighted, and dropping the quaint little courtesy the lame 
flower-maker had taught her. 

“ Then come and get something to eat. We two will 
keep you company,” said Achilles, good-naturedly. 

For the first time the child’s gaze wandered from the kind 
host toward the fire-place, and as her eyes encountered 
those of the viscount, an expression of strong dislike over- 
spread her pretty face. 

Achilles noticed it and laughed. 

“ You haven’t made a conquest here, evidently,” he 
remarked, pointing to Ferra. 

“It wouldn’t matter much to me, even ten years 


12 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


hence, I fancy,” retorted the viscount, scornfully. “You 
know my taste.” 

Ferra had exceedingly primitive ideas concerning the use 
of a knife and fork, but her manner and bearing were so 
graceful and dainty that her host was filled with admiration. 
How delightful it seemed to be allowed to eat all the good 
things on the table, and when the prince loaded her plate 
at dessert, she plunged her sharp little white teeth into the 
fruit and conserves with all the zest of a squirrel, while the 
glass of wine she had drunk had brought a rich glow to 
her cheek, and a still brighter sparkle to her eye as she 
gazed smilingly around her. 

“Would you like to stay here always, Ferra? ” asked the 
prince, greatly amused. 

She looked around admiringly at the costly furniture, red 
satin hangings, soft carpet, and blazing chandeliers, and 
then glanced at her host. 

“ Oh, yes, sir. It is so cold and dark and dismal where 
we live; I almost freeze, too, for I have to sell flowers all 
day, and my father drinks, and beats mother and me.” 

“What is your father’s name and where does he live? ” 

“At No. 94 Rue Rochefort, in the basement. His name 
is Pierre Dontrange. May I really stay here, sir? ” 

Her eyes sparkled, and she gazed at him entreatingly. 

“ I don’t know yet.” 

“ Achilles, don’t make a fool of yourself, I beg of you.” 

Quick as lightning Ferra turned, and cast a look of 
hatred at the speaker. She bit her lip angrily, then, slipping 
her hand furtively into that of the prince, she whispered: 

“ Don’t listen to him. I’ll be good, and work hard, and 
never give any trouble.” 

The prince stroked her wavy hair thoughtfully for a 
moment, then lighted a cigarette and threw himself down 
on a luxurious sofa. Ferra, left to her own devices, moved 
softly about the room, examining the various articles of 
furniture and ornaments until she reached the fire-place, 
where she sank down on the big bear-skin rug in front of 
the hearth, with her head between the bear’s paws and her 
arms encircling his neck. 

“ How warm and beautiful it is here,” she softly whis- 
pered to herself. “ It’s just like one of Desiree’s stories.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


13 


The warmth, the wine, and the unwonted good cheer she 
had enjoyed began to make their soothing power felt, and 
while the words were still upon her lips she fell into a deep 
slumber. 

When her measured breathing convinced the other 
occupants of the room of this fact, the prince rose and 
beckoned to Leroy, and the two gentlemen advanced 
together to the hearth to take another look at the sleeping 
child. 

“ If you would ring and have her taken home while she’s 
asleep, she would always think that this was only a dream,” 
remarked Leroy. 

“ I shall do nothing of the sort. It would be a sin to 
condemn such grace and beauty to a life of want and misery. 
Nature is not often so lavish of her choicest gifts. I’m going 
to make a bargain with her parents, and have her trained 
and educated.” 

“And then? ” 

Prince Achilles looked his questioner full in the face, and 
laughed curtly and sneeringly. 

“And then? and then?” he retorted. “By Jupiter, 
Anatole, you are becoming intolerable. Wait until that 
time comes before you take it upon yourself to play the part 
of mentor.” 

“ You forget that every such act is attended with conse- 
quences there is no possibility of evading. Your protegee 
is sure to be very beautiful one of these days — ” 

“ So you admit it, at last? ” cried the prince, triumphantly. 
“Well, is that any reason I should condemn her to a life of 
poverty? Would it not be inhuman to do so, Anatole? ” 

The viscount shrugged his shoulders. 

“ It would certainly be the wisest thing to do. It is all 
very well to perform an act of charity, perhaps, but it is 
very foolish to burden one’s self with its possible conse- 
quences, thus hanging a mill-stone about one’s neck, as it 
were. What is to become of her? ” 

“ How do I know? Perhaps she’ll become my children’s 
governess; perhaps my nurse, or the comfort of my old age. 
At all events, she’s going now straight to the Convent of 
the Sacred Heart. What do you think of that? ” 


14 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


‘‘I’m just as much opposed to the plan as ever. Send 
her back to her cellar.” 

“Barbarian! I don’t know what you think about it, but it 
strikes me that Ferra doesn’t possess the tastes of a Diog- 
enes, by any means, but on the contrary has a very keen 
appreciation of the good things of life. By the way, 
let’s pay our visit to the Rue Rochefort now, while our 
youthful Venus is asleep. Come, Anatole, I’ll take no 
refusal.” 

Leroy shook his head dubiously, but made no further 
attempt to dissuade his friend. It was a matter of small 
moment to him after all; besides, his recent concession 
seemed to have pleased his friend, and he was naturally 
anxious to keep on good terms with him. 

The arrival of two aristocratic looking young men in a 
magnificently appointed equipage created a great sensa- 
tion in the narrow, dingy street, and half a dozen dirty 
hands were eagerly extended to point out the way to 
Monsieur Dontrange’s humble abode. 

Through the half-open door came a strong odor of gin, 
and on a pile of straw in one corner of the room lay the 
man they were in search of, while his wife stood over the 
fire preparing their frugal supper. The lame flower-maker 
seemed to have just dropped in to inquire about Ferra. 

“I don’t know where she is,” replied the other woman. 
“ She hasn’t come home yet.” 

“But it is long after dark. Poor little thing! ” 

“You needn’t waste your pity on her,” said the woman, 
curtly. “ If she had been here she’d have been sure to get 
a beating, just as I did.” 

At that very moment the prince entered, and walking 
straight up to the two women, said: 

“I’m looking for a family named Dontrange. Is this 
where they live? ” 

The mistress of the household glanced at her husband in 
a rather shame-faced way, wiped her hands on her dirty 
apron, and nodded an awkward assent. 

“You have a little girl named Ferra, who sells flowers in 
the streets,” continued the prince; “ I’ve taken a fancy to 
the child, and propose to take charge of her hereafter. 
What do you ask for her? ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS, 


15 


Hearing a strange voice, the half-drunken brute in the 
corner raised his head and turned his glassy eyes on the 
speaker, then rose and staggered toward him. 

“Oh, sir,” he whined, in a husky, uncertain voice, “I’m 
an honest man, a perfectly honest man, though I’ve been 
very unfortunate. How can you ask me to sell my little 
daughter, my pride, and the comfort of my old age — ” 

“ She shall want for nothing; she will be much better off 
than with you,” interrupted Achilles, angrily, retreating a 
step as the man approached him. 

“And her mother, her poor, broken-hearted mother! Oh, 
no, kind sir, it is impossible! ” 

Anatole interposed. 

“ Stop this bosh at once,” he said, harshly. “You shall 
have three thousand francs for her. That is worth consid- 
ering, I think. But you must make up your mind at once. 
I’ve no intention of remaining here in this hole.” 

“ Our dear little one, our adopted daughter,” whined the 
man, evidently yielding, however. “ We took her from the 
arms of a dead beggar woman we knew nothing about, and 
she has been like our own child to us ever since — ” 

“Three thousand francs,” repeated Leroy, dryly. “Yes 
or no?” 

“Yes, then; yes.” 

Three thousand francs in shining gold were quickly 
deposited on the rickety table, and the two friends hastily 
made their escape from this abode of squalor, filth, and dis- 
sipation. In the dark, damp court-yard the little lame 
flower-maker stole up and accosted them. 

“God bless you for the good deed you have done,” she 
faltered, “ although it will be very lonely for me without 
the child. Give my love to Ferra, gentleman; give my love 
to her.” 

“By Jove! I believe this old woman has designs onus, 
too,” exclaimed Leroy, sarcastically. “A nice place to get 
into, surely. Let’s drive straight to the Cafd Riche in order 
that I may have the satisfaction of knowing that I am 
really a gentleman of refinement. Some writer has said: 
‘ One never forgets one’s youthful impressions.’ I sincerely 
hope he was mistaken, for, by heaven, that place was 
frightful.” 


16 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Two days after the events just related, the portals of the 
Convent of the Sacred Heart closed upon Ferra Dontrange. 
The prince took her there himself, and commended her to 
the special care of the Mother Superior. 

“Now I have done my duty, Anatole, but I must say 
that I feel curious to see how she’ll turn out,” remarked the 
prince, on his return. 

“ Time will show,” answered Anatole, laconically, blow- 
ing a little cloud of pale blue smoke through his nostrils. 
“But whatever the consequences may be, you alone are 
accountable, remember. You would have your own way in 
the matter.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Prince Arbanoff, with his hands clasped over his head, 
was lying stretched out at full length on a luxurious couch 
of peacock blue plush. Near the window, with his back to 
the light, sat Viscount Leroy, absorbed in the perusal of 
the latest newspaper. 

A profound stillness pervaded the apartment as well as 
all that part of the house, and the crackling of the fire and 
the occasional rustling of the newspaper were the only 
sounds that broke the silence. 

At last Prince Achilles gave another frightful yawn. 

“ Stop that, I beg of you,” exclaimed Anatole, dropping 
his newspaper. “ It makes my jaws ache just to hear you.” 

The diplomat rose and walked up and down the room a 
few times, finally halting before a small table holding a sil- 
ver waiter on which the prince’s mail still lay unopened. 

“ Here are your letters,” he remarked, pointing to them. 
“ Shall I bring them to you? ” 

“ For heaven’s sake, no! They are of no consequence.” 

“You can hardly say that of this epistle, I judge. A 
large business envelope, unscented, and addressed in a 
stiff, formal hand. What a pity that the seal is broken. 
The device looks — yes, it is, a pierced heart. Won’t you 
open it?” 

“ Thanks, please do it in my stead.” 

Anatole complied with the request, glanced over the 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


17 


Opening lines, and then dropped the missive, with an excla- 
mation of astonishment. 

“ Well, what is it? ” inquired the prince, from his quiet 
corner. 

“ The letter is from the Mother Superior of the Convent 
of the Sacred Heart, reminding you of your duty toward 
your adopted child, Fernande Dontrange. She goes on to 
say: ” 

“ ‘ The time required for the completion of our pupil’s 
prescribed course of study having long since elapsed, and 
her place having been promised to another, I must ask your 
Highness to apprise me without delay of your wishes con- 
cerning her. You must not suppose from this that I am in 
haste to part with my pupil; on the contrary, she has 
endeared herself to us all by her sunny disposition; but I 
must admit that though I have done my best to foster her 
spiritual and intellectual development, they have not kept 
pace with her physical growth. She has become very 
beautiful. I tell you this in order that you* may fully 
understand the situation. Her inclinations and desires are 
essentially worldly, though I believe her character will be 
as wax in judicious hands. She has all the faults and vir- 
tues of a true woman, but life in a cloister would be an 
impossibility for her. I have fulfilled my duty toward her 
faithfully, and must now return her to the hands that 
intrusted her to my charge eight years ago. I know that 
you have never evinced the slightest interest in the child 
since that time, but supposing that this apparent neglect 
has been due at least in a measure to the onerous duties 
entailed by your high social position, I have silently waited 
for the time when I would be compelled to recall her to your 
mind. That time has now come. One week from to-day 
Ferra leaves the convent forever, and if I am not advised 
to the contrary, in the meantime, I shall send her to the 
Arbanoff palace in charge of Sister Beatrice.’ ” 

Leroy laid down the letter and glanced inquiringly toward 
the dark corner, where Prince Achilles was still lying as 
quiet and motionless as if asleep. 

“Well, did you hear what I read?” the viscount asked, 
at last. 


2 


18 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“The devil, yes! This is a fine state of things. What 
on earth am I to do with the girl, Anatole? ” 

“ It strikes me that is your affair. I’m sure I don’t 
know.” 

“It’s no laughing matter, I assure you. Just think of 
having a woman roaming about the house all day long and 
driving one mad by her infernal chatter! I couldn’t bear 
it.” 

“ The inevitable consequences, my friend,” retorted the 
viscount, sarcastically. “ Do you remember how violently 
I opposed this foolish scheme of yours. You wouldn’t 
listen to me, and the consequences of our acts are not to be 
evaded. You see.” 

The prince sighed heavily. 

“ Those I apprehend are terrible indeed,” he replied. “ I 
don’t see why the Mother Superior will not consent to keep 
her in the convent permanently. I would not mind any 
expense her admission into the order might entail.” 

“ But the order is recruited only from the upper classes, 
and no one knows anything about Terra’s parentage,” 
replied Leroy, shrugging his shoulders. 

“ But, for God’s sake, tell me what I am to do,” cried 
Achilles, petulantly. 

There was a rap at the door and Ivan’s white head 
appeared in the opening. 

“ What is it? ” asked Achilles, surprised at this unex- 
pected intrusion. 

“ Sister Beatrice from the Convent of the Sacred Heart 
is here, your Highness.” 

“Alone?” inquired Achilles, raising himself on one 
elbow. 

“ No, in company with a young lady about whom she 
wishes to speak with your Highness.” 

The prince groaned. 

“ Already? What does this mean? I thought it was a 
week hence she was to come.” 

“ So it would have been if the letter had not lain so long 
unopened,” retorted Leroy, glancing at the date. “ It was 
written just one week ago.” 

“ Where are the visitors? ” 

“ With Mademoiselle Clarisse.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


19 


“Very well.” 

The prince dismissed the servant by a gesture, then 
pressing his hand upon his brow, he exclaimed helplessly: 

“ What now? What shall I do now? ” 

“Why do you distress yourself so much about it? Let 
her remain in your housekeeper’s charge until you come to 
a decision. But don’t you want to take a look at the girl, 
or have you lost all interest in your prot4g4e? ” 

“ Yes, I must admit that I have,” retorted Achilles, 
sullenly. “ I always take a dislike to anybody and anything 
that gives me trouble.” 

“ But before you decide, either one way or the other, you 
ought to know what she looks like.” 

And before the prince had time to object, the viscount 
had rung the bell and given Ivan orders to fetch Ferra 
immediately. 

“ The situation is exceedingly annoying, I must say,” 
said the prince, adjusting his eyeglass, and turning so as to 
face the door. 

In the very same spot where she had stood eight years 
before, Ferra stood now, when Ivan softly closed the door 
behind her. The rays of the declining sun and the bright 
glow of fire flooded the magnificent apartment as on the 
former occasion; as before, the two young aristocrats gazed 
with astonishment at the vision of youthful loveliness, the 
prince with an expression akin to annoyance this time, the 
viscount with evident curiosity; and, as before, the girl 
slowly advanced a few steps over the thick, soft carpet, 
and then paused, with downcast eyes. 

She wore the plain gray gown of the convent pupils, 
with a broad, white linen collar; but even this ascetic garb 
could not detract from the lithe grace of her tall, well-devel- 
oped form. Her red-gold hair lay in a shower of ringlets 
on her white forehead, and a rich, peach-like glow suffused 
her cheek. She had, indeed, become very beautiful; even 
more beautiful, in fact, than she had promised to become 
when a child. 

Prince Achilles, who had raised himself on one elbow, 
stared at her for a while without uttering a word. He did 
not seem to consider it necessary to take the trouble to rise. 
To him, Ferra was merely the little flower girl he had 


20 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


rescued from the depths of poverty, and who was, conse- 
quently, still his property, despite the lapse of years; besides, 
her coming had disturbed his peace of mind, and though 
he probably had no intention of betraying the fact, she 
perceived his annoyance almost instantly. 

“Come a little nearer, Ferra,” he said at last, after a long 
silence which had made the young girl extremely uncom- 
fortable; “and tell me what plans you have made for the 
future. Your coming is a great surprise to me, as you 
perceive, perhaps.” 

She advanced a few steps, but the color in her cheeks 
deepened, for the words and manner of the prince wounded 
both her womanly sensibility and pride. 

“I am fully aware of the fact, your Highness,” she 
replied, with head proudly erect and sparkling eyes. “ I am 
sorry, but it was not in my power to prevent it. Your High- 
ness should have made your wishes known sooner.” 

“It really makes no particular difference after all,” thought 
Achilles, somewhat dismayed by the girl's indignation. 
“You can remain with Clarisse until I make other arrange- 
ments for you,” he added, aloud. “ You will be perfectly safe 
under her protection, and it is always well for a woman to 
know something about the thousand and one matters per- 
taining to the management of a household. I know, of 
course, that you have had no opportunity to learn anything 
of the sort in the convent, but Clarisse will be very glad to 
teach you, and you may be of a great deal of service to 
her.” 

“I will try hard to make myself useful, your Highness. I 
know that I am indebted to you for everything.” 

“ Spare me all that, child. I hate thanks. I’m something 
of an invalid, and whatever I have done has been merely to 
please myself. I deserve no thanks, nor do I ask them.” 

“ But they are due you, all the same, your Highness,” she 
replied, her shining eyes looking out at him half-entreat- 
ingly, half-defiantly, from beneath the clustering locks of 
red-gold hair, while her scarlet lips curled scornfully. 
“ 'rhere is no one in the world that I can thank except you, 
so pray allow me to do it without further protest. I really 
can not resign the privilege.” 

She smiled faintly as she uttered these last words, and 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


21 


even this shadow of a smile imparted a bewildering charm 
to her lovely face. 

The prince mopped his brow nervously with his silk hand- 
kerchief. 

“You must be tired,” he said, at last. 

“ Tired after that short drive?” she repeated, half-won- 
deringly, half-scornfully. 

“Yes, yes, you must be tired,” he declared, almost 
peevishly, again wiping his face. “ Clarisse will give you 
every attention.” 

Ferra bowed in silence. If the prince persisted in declar- 
ing that she was weary why should she feel obliged to con- 
tradict him; besides, she longed to escape from this depress- 
ing atmosphere, and put an end to her first interview with 
the man whom, in the ardent gratitude of her girlish heart, 
she had likened to a sort of demi-god. 

As she followed Ivan she realized that the most fondly 
cherished illusion of her youth had been destroyed. In her 
humiliation and disappointment her thoughts reverted to 
her first visit to the Arbanoff palace. The man at whose 
feet she had longed to lay her warm, grateful heart in 
deepest reverence, had showed her, unmistakably, that his 
generosity toward her had been merely a whim, of which he 
had soon wearied. In fact, he had soon forgotten it 
entirely, and when reminded of it now, evidently regarded it 
as an intolerable bore. 

When Ivan returned her to Clarisse’s charge, he said: 

“ His highness desires that the young lady shall remain 
in your care. Mademoiselle. She is to have the room 
adjoining yours, and whatever else you may consider 
needful.” 

“ Not the pink rooms, then?” inquired the housekeeper, 
with a searching glance. “ You are sure? ” 

“ No; not the pink rooms. That is certain,” he replied, 
with a meaning look that seemed to afford the housekeeper 
great satisfaction. 

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders as she resumed her work, 
but when she left the room shortly afterward she bestowed 
a kindly glance on the young stranger, who had seated her- 
self by the window, and was gazing sadly out into the night. 
When she returned, she found Ferra still sitting in the same 


22 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


spot with her bowed head resting on her arm. Though the 
spinster’s vision was not very keen, she saw that the girl’s 
cheek was wet with tears, and yielding to a hasty impulse 
she stepped to the poor child’s side, and placing her hand 
kindly on the auburn locks, said cheerfully: 

“ The beginning of a new life is always hard, but things 
will soon look brighter, so you mustn’t cry. As I am to 
take entire charge of you, we shall soon grow quite fond of 
each other. We shall get on nicely, I am sure, if we are 
kindly disposed to each other.” 

Ferra looked up. The wrinkled face that had looked so 
cold and hard before, now wore a kindly, even loving 
expression. It took very little to make Ferra happy. 
Almost before Clarisse knew it, two round, white arms were 
clasped around her neck, and a soft, young cheek, on which 
tear-drops still glistened, was pressed confidingly to hers. 

“ Oh, yes, we shall be very happy together, I feel sure of 
it. I hate to have the ‘ blues,’ and there didn’t seem to be 
much likelihood of anything else in the Arbanoff palace.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A fortnight passed tranquilly and uneventfully. Ferra 
had seen none of the wonders of Paris, nor had the idea 
of summoning his prot^g^e into his presence once occurred 
to Prince Arbanoff. All recollection of the girl, strange to 
say, had apparently become exceedingly distasteful to him, 
and he made every possible effort to forget her existence. 

It was very different with Leroy. He had had only a 
fleeting glance at Ferra on ^he afternoon of her arrival, 
when she had not seemed even conscious of his presence, 
but that brief glance had sufficed to captivate his fancy 
and completely destroy the astute diplomat’s wonted self- 
control. 

Sleeping and waking, he was continually haunted by 
visions of that arch, girlish face. He secretly anathema- 
tized his friend for keeping the girl so completely' buried 
from sight, and never ascended the broad marble staircase 
without glancing eagerly about to see if he could not 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


23 


catch another glimpse of Ferra. But all in vain! The 
long corridors lined with tall palms were always deserted, 
and Achilles was apparently insensible to all his friend’s 
endeavors to revive his interest in his prot4g4e. 

One clear, cold November evening the attache started 
for the Arbanoff mansion, having received an invitation to 
one of those delightful suppers the prince often gave to 
his intimate friends, and wishing at the same time to bid 
Achilles good-by for a few days, as his chief was about 
to dispatch him on a mission to a petty German court. 

It proved to be an extremely elegant affair, to which only 
a select number of the “gilded youth” of Paris had been 
bidden, and sumptuous viands, costly wines, and delightful 
company all combined to make the entertainment one of 
exceptional brilliancy. 

In days gone by, Prince Achilles, with his odd fancies 
and absurd whims, had always been the life of the com- 
pany, but the change that time had made in him was so 
great that an old friend would hardly have known him. 
Occasionally, a faint glimmer of his former joviality 
appeared, but only to vanish almost instantly, and his guests 
had ceased to marvel when their pale and exhausted-look- 
ing host leaned back in his chair and rested his head on his 
hand as if too weary to hold it up any longer. His friends 
had become quite accustomed to this, now, and had ceased 
to comment upon it; in other respects everything con- 
nected with the establishment was unchanged. 

The sumptuous repast was nearly over now; only here 
and there a guest might still be observed trifling with the 
dessert. The costly exotics in the massive silver epergnes 
drooped their wilted heads, emitting all the stronger per- 
fume the while; the brilliant lights played on the sparkling 
wines and the tall champagne glasses dripping with foam, 
and the whole atmosphere of the room was oppressive in 
the extreme. Napkins strewed the table and the floor, and 
the guests were only waiting to hear the conclusion of a 
piquant story before rising. 

Prince Arbanoff never had coffee served at the table. 
Connected with the dining-room was a small apartment in 
which he had usually attended to his correspondence in 
former years, and which had consequently been dignified 


24 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


by the name of a study. It was an octagonal room, hung 
and furnished in embossed leather, and on the evening 
referred to was but dimly lighted, the wood fire having 
partially died out, though it still cast a ruddy glow on the 
massive clawfooted table on which stood a big silver salver, 
laden with delicate cups of gold filigree and sparkling cut- 
glass liqueur flasks. 

For years it had been one of Clarisse’s duties to see that 
everything was in order here, and that nothing in the way 
of dishes or beverages was wanting, before the entrance of 
the guests; and if she allowed Ferra to perform this task 
in her stead upon this occasion, it was only because no one 
had ever surprised her there and she thought it was not yet 
time for the gentlemen to desert the table for their coffee. 

The girl moved a cup here and a saucer there, for she 
dearly loved to make everything look as pretty as possible. 
The rather boisterous laughter of the guests in the adjoin- 
ing room, heard through the closed door, was subdued 
into a faint murmur when it reached her ears, so it was in 
a very leisurely way that she took the liqueur flasks out of 
their stands, one by one, and held them up to the light to 
inspect their contents. 

One was green, another yellow, and another white, and 
a delightful odor greeted her nostrils when she removed the 
stoppers. Ferra had never tasted anything of the kind, 
and her curiosity got the better of her. She was quite alone, 
no one would see her, and a tiny sip would certainly do 
her no harm. No one would be the wiser. She gave a 
quick glance around, then caught up a glass and poured 
a few spoonfuls of Chartreuse into it. Once more, she 
smelled it daintily, then just moistened her rosy lips with 
the beverage. How good it tasted! She sipped a few 
drops, then tasted it again, and yet again, and at last, as 
she was standing with her head thrown back in order to 
drain the last drop from the glass, a door behind her 
opened noiselessly, and Leroy appeared upon the threshold. 
As he perceived how Ferra was employed, a smile flitted 
over his face, and hastily closing the door he stepped up 
softly and placed his hand lightly on the young girl’s arm. 

She started violently, and uttered a faint cry of terror; 
but though she would have been overwhelmed with mor- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


25 


tificatioii and dismay had it been Arbanoff who stood 
before her, she seemed to resent Leroy’s intrusion, and 
frowned angrily. 

“A first trial?” he said, laughingly. .“Well, what do 
you think of it?” 

“ I can’t bear to think you should have seen me,” she 
responded, half petulantly. 

“ Oh, I am extremely charitable and prudent when my 
particular friends are involved. Besides, it is a matter of 
no importance whatever. 1 consider a person a simpleton 
who doesn’t make the most of every opportunity for 
enjoyment.” 

His hand slipped stealthily down from her arm to her 
slender waist. 

“And we are good friends already, are we not, Ferra? ” 
he whispered, bending his head until his face nearly touched 
hers. 

The girl’s eyes flashed as she pushed him violently from 
her. 

“ You are very much mistaken,” she replied, passionately. 
“ Though I live on Prince Arbanoff’s charity, you have no 
right to insult me.” 

“ I haven’t the slightest intention of insulting you,” he 
replied, quickly, in an entirely different, and almost soothing 
tone, still holding her hand fast. “ By heaven, I have not! 
But your eyes would drive any man mad! ” 

As he spoke, he hastily turned to listen to the sounds 
that came from the dining-room. Suppose the other guests 
should make their appearance at this most inopportune 
moment? Still, if they should happen to see and admire 
Ferra, he, Anatole, would have made great progress toward 
the achievement of the plan for which he had been secretly 
laboring. 

“ Nonsense,” she retorted, angrily, trying to draw away 
her hand. “Release me, I must get away before any one 
sees me.” 

“But why are you so anxious to escape observation. 
Test the power of your personal charms just once before 
you are made a slave forever.” 

“ Who has any intention of making a slave of me? ” 

“ Oh, our good Achilles, and Clarisse as well.” 


26 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


He spoke in his usual cold and indifferent tone, and in 
an almost abstracted manner. He had released her hand, 
and now turned and glanced around for a seat. Ferra 
gazed at him in profound astonishment. She little sus- 
pected what a fierce fire was raging beneath his cold exte- 
rior; she little knew that he was listening breathlessly, in 
momentary expectation of seeing the other guests enter, 
and — 

The door flew open and the gay party appeared upon the 
threshold. For an instant they all stood motionless, then 
came eagerly forward, and a murmur of admiration 
resounded through the room. 

How fervently Ferra wished that the floor would open 
and swallow her up. A feeling of intense mortification 
overwhelmed her, and she dared not even raise her eyes. 

“ Thank you, Ferra,” said the languid voice of Achilles, 
and she welcomed it as a signal of deliverance; “ every- 
thing is as it should be, I see. I shall require nothing 
more.” 

. She bowed and started toward the door. In spite of her 
inward perturbation, her look and bearing were those of a 
queen; but as soon as she was safe outside the door, she 
pressed her hands wildly to her throbbing temples, and 
rushed hastily down the long corridor to seek a refuge 
behind a leafy screen of large tropical plants and palms at 
the farther end of it. Meanwhile, the wildest excitement 
was prevailing in the room she had just left. 

“What beautiful creature was that? ” asked one. 

“ Did you plan to delight our eyes with this living pict- 
ure, Achilles? ” 

“ What a shame she left us.” 

“Oh, you sly old rascal, you! ” 

“ Who is she? ” 

“Do let her C')me back again; just long enough for us 
to get one more look at her! ” 

Their host laughed lazily and shook his head. 

“ You are all very much mistaken in your suppositions,” he 
replied, indolently. “Ferra is my foster-daughter, so to 
speak. Not one of you shall have a word to say to her, or 
go near her.” 

“You selfish creature! ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


27 


“ She is under the protection of my old housekeeper, 
who has guarded all the other valuables of the Arbanoff 
palace so faithfully for years.” 

“ Where did you pick her up.? ” 

“ She’s a perfect beauty! There’s no doubt about that.” 

“Ah, well, Anatole will tell you all about it. Anatole! ” 

But Anatole was missing from the little party, and Achil- 
les was obliged to narrate the story himself. 

Meanwhile Anatole, with the keen scent of a bloodhound, 
had tracked Ferra to her hiding-place. 

“Good heavens, you here! ” cried the girl, knitting her 
brows, angrily, as he again appeared before her. She 
sprang up, and was about to hasten away, when Leroy 
seized her hand and forcibly detained her. 

“ Why do you flee from me, mademoiselle? ” he asked. 

“I have no intention of fleeing from you! ” she answered, 
haughtily, throwing herself on a red satin divan that stood 
in the corner of the gallery. 

“True; one flees only from persons one fears, and you 
surely are not afraid of me, my dear Ferra.” 

“ Most certainly not.” 

“ Your name is upon every lip now. Every man in the 
study is talking about you.” 

“How terrible! Oh, how could I have been so impru- 
dent. It makes me shudder to think of it.” 

“ And why? You have no idea of your power yet, child. 
It is a marvelous, terrible thing, but wonderfully sweet, as 
you will find, by and by. You have excited everybody’s 
curiosity to such an extent that Achilles has been obliged 
to tell them your story long before this.” 

“I quite fail to see the necessity of that,” she retorted, 
angrily, setting her little white teeth savagely in her lower 
lip. “ Is it absolutely necessary that everybody should be 
informed of my low origin? ” 

“ Achilles very naturally looks at the matter from an 
entirely different point of view,” replied Leroy sarcastically. 
“ To-morrow everybody will admire you even more, though 
in an entirely different way, of course, and him, also, that 
generous, kind-hearted, eccentric Achilles! ” 

Ferra plucked a leaf from a plant beside her and tore it 


28 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


into tiny pieces. Her heart was filled with bitter wrath 
and mortification. 

“ He has a right to do as he pleases in regard to me, of 
course. I can not rebel, whatever he may choose to do,” 
she said, almost sullenly. 

“ Oh, Ferra, do you attach so little value to your beauty 
as all that? Is there a single man here who would not 
gladly bow down and worship you if you would permit him 
to do so? ” 

“ Why do you keep harping on my beauty? ” she rejoined, 
pettishly. 

“ Because, because ” — and again he placed his hand on 
her arm and drew her nearer. His fingers burned her flesh 
through her thin sleeve, and his touch so aroused her aver- 
sion that yielding to a hasty impulse she pushed him from 
her with all her might. 

“Hah! little wild-cat!” he exclaimed, through his set 
teeth, seizing her around her slender waist with a grasp 
like steel; “ you have sharp claws, but take care. I’ll have 
you if it costs me my life, for I love you.” 

Ferra’s teeth were tightly clenched, and she did not utter 
a word as she struggled to free herself from his hold, her 
slender figure writhing and twisting with almost serpentine 
litheness in his arms. 

“Wild-cat! ” he whispered yet again, and his hot breath 
scorched her cheek. “ But I like you all the better for it. 
I’ll tame you, rest assured of that! ” 

He held her tight and pressed his hot lips upon her fresh 
dewy mouth; but almost at the same instant he uttered an 
exclamation of dismay, for Ferra had succeeded in freeing 
one of her hands, and as she did, she dealt him a blow 
full in the face with all her strength. 

A look of ungovernable fury distorted his features, 
already flushed with passion and wine. His upper lip 
curled up at the corners, plainly revealing his long white 
teeth, and his eyes gleamed like those of an enraged 
hyena. 

“You shall pay for this,” he hissed, under his breath, as 
his arms fell. Then he turned and left her. 

For a moment Ferra stood there as pale as death, and 
unable to articulate a word. Her rage had spent itself, and 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


29 


a feeling of unspeakable bitterness and humiliation now 
filled her heart. She walked slowly to her own room and 
locked herself in. To chat with Clarisse and bid her a 
cheerful good-night, as usual, was quite out of the ques- 
tion. Tears gushed in torrents from her lovely eyes, and 
streamed unnoticed down her cheeks. For the first time 
in her life she realized her utter helplessness and loneli- 
ness; for the first time she formed some adequate con- 
ception of the difficulties that were almost certain to beset 
her pathway in life, and for the first time her natural pride, 
which had heretofore manifested itself merely in a little 
harmless coquetry, was fully aroused. 

“ The vile wretch! ” she said, shuddering, and rubbing 
the lips, which had just been so desecrated, with her pocket 
handkerchief until they almost bled. “ I will never forgive 
him; never!” 


CHAPTER V. 

Ferra’s unexpected appearance at Prince Arbanoff’s 
supper created a great sensation, and was quite serious in 
its consequences. All the guests were loud in their 
expressions of surprise and admiration, and Leroy immedi- 
ately took advantage of the fact to further his own plans. 

It was a part of his nefarious scheme that Ferra should 
have a chance to see something of the world, and be 
exposed to its fascinations and temptations, for after that 
he felt sure that the hour of his sweet revenge would soon 
come. 

So the very next time the attache found himself alone 
with Arbanoff he alluded to the subject, and did his best 
to flatter Achilles’ vanity by congratulating him on the 
intense admiration his youthful protegee had excited; then, 
going straight to the point, he added: 

“Why do you keep the girl shut up like a nun, and per- 
sist in playing the part of jailer to a young creature who 
longs for the society of her kind, and whose charms would 
make you the talk of Paris? ” 

“ But don’t you understand that her reputation would be 
ruined if she were brought into public notice? ” 


30 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Do you suppose she would care anything about that? 
I certainly do not. How many of those women upon whom 
we bestow melancholy glances, and for whose sake we tor- 
ment ourselves with conscientious scruples, are really 
worthy of this solicitude on our part? If you had left her 
in her cellar, what do you suppose would have become of 
her by this time.^ ” 

Achilles sighed. 

“I can not understand you,” continued the wily tempter. 
“ Why don’t you exhibit her exactly as you would exhibit 
some fine picture or beautiful statue that good luck had 
thrown in your way. Make yourself an object of envy; 
and laugh in your sleeve when men plot to entice away 
the treasure that is so inalienably yours.” 

“ What would you have me do?” 

“ Let her appear in your box at the opera, and drive 
about in your carriages, without that old owl, Clarisse, of 
course. Possibly people may be charitable enough to think 
her a r^elative of yours — possibly not.” 

“ A relative! What are you thinking of? No, Anatole, 
the blood of the Arbanoff has nothing in common with 
the denizens of the Rue Rochefort.” 

When Leroy had taken his departure, Arbanoff 
remained for some time lost in thought; finally he rang and 
summoned Ferra into his presence. 

The past few days had been full of trouble and anxiety 
for Ferra. If Leroy took it into his head to complain of her, 
what should she do? How could she make the prince 
understand that his friend had brought the indignity upon 
himself. When Arbanoff, just at twilight, summoned her, 
as she supposed, for a lecture, she entered his presence 
with a deep blush on her cheeks, but looking even prettier 
and more piquant than ever. Achilles surveyed her for 
a while in silence. His friend was right. Ferra would cer- 
tainly create a furore^ and he was certainly a fool if he 
failed to profit by the fact. 

“I have a proposition to make to you, mademoiselle,” 
he at last said, languidly, as if it cost him almost too 
much of an effort to speak. “ Your secluded life here 
must be growing very irksome to you; how would ypu like 
to attend the opera? ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


31 


Ferra looked eagerly at the prince, and unconsciously 
drew a step nearer, as if wondering if she could have heard 
aright. 

“ Oh, your Highness, would that be possible?” 

“Of course it would be possible, if you wish it.” 

“If I wish it!” 

No further reply was needed, for in her astonishment 
she had uttered a little shriek of delight. “ When can I 
go, your Highness?” 

“ To-morrow, to-day — whenever you choose.” 

“Then I will go to-day;” she was positively breathless 
with wonder and rapture. “ May I tell Clarisse?” 

“ Clarisse is not to accompany you. If you use my box, 
you must go alone. Are you afraid?” 

“ Oh, no, your Highness; who could possibly harm me?” 

She glanced up at him confidingly, and he did not 
reflect that he was compromising her and her future merely 
to gratify his own vanity, and that the world would prob- 
ably take from her something that could never be restored 
to her again. 

“Then hold yourself in readiness this evening.” 

With an exclamation of joy, Ferra flung her arms around 
the old housekeeper’s neck as she told her of the treat the 
prince had promised her; but Clarisse deemed it no subject 
for rejoicing; on the contrary, she strongly disapproved of 
the plan. 

“You were intrusted to my charge, and the very first 
time you really need my protection I am left behind. 
That is very wrong in his highness. It would be perfectly 
proper for you to go anywhere with me; but alone — I do 
not approve of it at all.” 

She grumbled and shook her head, but there was no 
help for it, and she finally relented so far as to place in the 
girl’s hair a sparkling diamond star that Arbanoff had 
given her as a reward for her faithful services one day 
when he was in a particularly generous mood. 

Ferra looked as beautiful as a dream as she sat en- 
throned in one of the crimson velvet arm-chairs in the 
prince’s box. Opera-glasses in every part of the house 
were leveled at her lovely face, and she would have been 


o'Z 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


no true woman, or at least no true Parisienne^ if she had 
failed to notice and enjoy the admiration she excited. 

“Zounds! who is that beautiful creature over there? ” 
exclaimed old Prince Faure, whose white hair and bowed 
form had not in the least impaired his interest in the fair 
sex, or his reputation as a connoisseur of feminine loveli- 
ness. “ What hair and what eyes! Where did she come 
from? ” 

There were shrugs of the shoulder, and scandalous con- 
jectures and theories in plenty; but no one knew anything 
about the beautiful stranger, and this fact rendered her all 
the more interesting. 

“ I didn’t know that Arbanoff was an admirer of red 
hair,” sneered the little Countess Orsini, without taking 
her opera-glass from her eyes, however. 

“ Arbanoff has good taste, unquestionably, but she — 
what can she see in that ungainly churl? If she has taken 
him on account of his income, any man who could offer 
her as much would have an equal chance,” mused young 
Prince Morny, stroking his long black mustache. “To- 
morrow I intend to begin paying a daily visit to the Arba- 
noff palace, and thus renew my almost forgotten intimacy 
with Achilles.” 

“ Is there no one here that can tell us who she is? A 
kingdom for some satisfactory information _concerning her! 
Who can give it? ” 

“I can,” said Anatole Leroy, who had just entered the 
box and closed the door behind him. 

The other occupants of the box crowded eagerly around 
him, but he proceeded to polish his opera-glass with great 
deliberation, as he stood quite unmoved in the midst of his 
fellow clubmen, without vouchsafing another word. 

His friends plied him with questions, and waited with 
breathless eagerness for his reply, but it was in his usual 
impassive manner that he finally said: 

“Beautiful as she is, she first saw the light in a dark, 
squalid cellar on the Rue Rochefort. She was a little, 
half-frozen child, selling flowers on the street, when she 
first attracted Achilles’ notice. He purchased her of her 
worthless parents, ..nd : ent her to a convent to be educated. 
He is always doing some unheard-of thing, you know.” 








i 


THE FT.OWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


33 


“ What is her name?” 

“ Ferra Dontrange.” 

“ You’re a lucky dog! ” 

“ Why? ” 

“Aren’t you an intimate friend of Arbanoff’s? ” 

But Leroy only shrugged his shoulders, as he proceeded 
to scrutinize Ferra as coolly and critically — at least to all 
appearance-^as any of the others. Her eyes met his, and 
then for the first time the attache smiled. 

In the front row sat a handsome young brunette, with 
her mother and husband by her side. 

She, too, had heard the half-wondering, half-admiring 
whispers, and noted the meaning, derisive smiles, and 
glancing at the solitary occupant of the box, she grew as 
pale as death, then changed her position so she sat with her 
back to the loge in question. 

Not once again was the beautful, though rather haughty, 
face, turned toward Ferra. " EVen when her husband 
attempted to call her attention to the girl’s rare loveliness, 
she only nodded abstractedly. 

“ Good heavens! these brazen creatures, how they monop- 
olize the attention of the entire audience! ” muttered the 
highly respectable and aristocratic looking elderly lady. 
“ Hand me the libretto, Alice.” 

“ Here it is, mamma.” 

The color in the younger lady’s cheeks deepened as she 
complied with the request. 

Ferra, leaning slightly forward in the box, gazed at the 
trio with sparkling eyes. 

“Why, it is Alice,” she whispered, joyfully, recognizing 
her most intimate friend at the convefit. 

What a pity it was that her friend did not turn. Every 
attempt to attract her attention proved futile, so Ferra’s 
earnest desire to exchange greetings with her former school- 
mate was not gratified. But after this unexpected meeting, 
it seemed to Ferra that the world was not so very large 
after all, and that she was no longer entirely alone; but 
before the conclusion of the performance the party rose 
and left the house, greatly to Ferra’s disappointment. 

“ If I only knew where she lived, I would go and call on 
her,” Ferra said to herself. “How please'd she would be 
3 


34 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


to see me, and how she would laugh at the idea of not 
knowing me! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 

Prince Arbanoff of course heard, through Leroy, of the 
sensation Ferra had created at the opera, and felt that it 
invested him with a sort of reflected glory, or notoriety. 
He smiled complacently on hearing the news. All his con- 
scientious scruples concerning this unfair treatment of his 
protegee seemed to have vanished entirely. 

An unusual throng of visitors gave the best possible 
proof of the truthfulness of Anatole’s report, especially as 
among these callers there were many men with whom the 
prince had held no intercourse for years, and whom he 
scarcely knew by name, and Arbanoff laughed as he 
remarked, with a careless wave of the hand: 

“ Behold the host of flies a lump of sugar will attract! ” 

Meanwhile Ferra, in blissful ignorance of all this, was 
continually tormenting Clarisse with entreaties to take her 
to see some of the wonders of Paris. 

The outside world was so beautiful, and she had no 
opportunity to see anything of it in the Arbanoff palace. 
The longing for social enjoyment, inherent in her nature, 
grew stronger and stronger, and the old spinster was 
finally obliged to yield a reluctant assent. There seemed 
to be no help for it. 

“ Paris is a terrible place, and so frightfully hot,” she 
said, shaking her head, though a few snowflakes floating 
lazily down from the sky as she spoke flatly contradicted 
this last assertion; “ but dear knows I can do nothing more 
than advise. Go to the Louvre, if you must, Ferra, and 
Gabriel shall accompany you.” 

The halls of the Louvre were cold and almost deserted. 
Clarisse had certainly failed grievously in her predictions, 
but what did Ferra care.^ The beautiful paintings and 
superb statuary — in fact, everything she saw — delighted her 
beyond expression, and the story of these heroic lives rose 
before her in more and more vivid colors, and with more 
and more distinctness, as she gazed. Entering another 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


35 


room, closely followed by Gabriel, she perceived two ladies 
and a gentleman standing before a celebrated statue of 
Venus. The younger of the two ladies, stylishly dressed in 
velvet and costly furs, turned slightly, disclosing to view a 
piquant, blooming face, framed in rich masses of wavy brown 
hair, and with a cry of delight Ferra darted toward her, 
exclaiming: 

“ Alice, dear Alice! ” 

With hands outstretched, she stood there beaming and 
smiling, ready to clasp her friend in a loving embrace, as 
she had often done at the convent, and perhaps wondering 
a little that her old schoolmate was not already in her arms. 

What could it mean? The ladies retreated a step, and 
raised their lorgnettes to their eyes, their escort readjusted 
his single eye-glass, and all three pairs of eyes emitted such 
a look of mingled astonishment and contempt, that Ferra 
felt her cheeks burn like fire beneath it. Her extended 
arms sank slowly down. 

“ Alice! ” she once more ventured, faintly, in a timid, 
shamefaced way. 

The person addressed surveyed her coldly from head to 
foot, then, retreating another step or two, said in icy, deter- 
mined tones: “ I supposed you had sufficient tact to ignore 
me and our former acquaintance as I have done, mademoi- 
selle; but as you have forced yourself upon my notice, I 
must say plainly and frankly that I wish to have no 
further intercourse with you.” 

“Why, what — what have I done?” faltered Ferra, turn- 
ing very pale, while her eyes filled with burning tears. 
“Alice, have — ” 

“ I am the Marquise Remacon,” replied the young lady, 
with head proudly erect. “ Come, Gaston, let us go.” 

She took her husband’s arm, and left the hall without 
deigning to bestow another glance on the humiliated girl, 
who distinctly heard the elder lady remark as the parly 
moved away: 

“What intolerable presumption in such a low person! ” 

Ferra returned home inconsolable. At first she could 
not imagine what it all meant. The whole affair was a 
complete mystery to her. Why should Alice have consid- 
ered herself insulted when she accosted her. Though she 


30 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


asked herself the question again and again, she could find 
no satisfactory answer for a long time. But suddenly 
everything became clear to her. Her woman’s instinct told 
her that she was suspected of being what she was not — 
that if Prince Arbanoff’s name was associated with hers it 
could only be in a way that was fatal to her reputation. A 
feeling of intense shame and anger made her forget her 
grief. She said to herself that she had been treated with 
the greatest injustice; that it was indeed a wicked world in 
which such things were possible; then she again began to 
deplore her forlorn condition, and burning tears again 
streamed in torrents from eyes that seemed to have been 
made only for smiles. 

“You are crying, child! What has happened? ” It was 
the old housekeeper that asked this question, evidently 
much troubled by Ferra’s distress. 

“ I am resolved to go away from here, Clarisse,” she- 
exclaimed, passionately. “Great heavens! is there no 
place in all this wide world where I can be of use to some 
one? ” 

She dashed away her tears, her eyes flashed ominously, 
and her hands were tightly clenched. The cruel injustice 
of mankind had aroused all the obstinacy of which her 
nature was capable. 

“I shall speak to the prince about it this very day,” she 
continued, vehemently. “ He certainly will not attempt to 
hinder me when he learns my reasons.” 

Clarisse muttered something, under her breath, that the 
girl could not catch, then she added: 

“If you are really in earnest, Ferra, and if his highness 
consents to let you go, I have some relatives in Brittany, a 
childless old couple, who would, I think, give you a home. 
But you are young, and fond of gayety. You long to see 
something of the world, and I don’t know that I ought to 
advise you to go there.” 

The girl sighed heavily. The prospect certainly was not 
inviting, but what else could she do? If she wished to pre- 
serve her reputation and her honor, she must leave this 
house immediately, and she had no other place to go. 
When Ivan came, in compliance with her request, to take 
her to the prince, she intended to speak to her benefactor 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


37 


very frankly, and a faint hope that he might suggest some 
better plan sprang up in her heart. 

Achilles noticed her tearstained eyes and the dejected 
tones of her voice; but before he could summon up energy 
to ask her the cause of her evident distress, Ferra threw 
aside her book, and with her hands pressed upon her 
bosom, said: 

“ Your Highness, I must speak with you.” 

The prince cleared his throat instead of replying, for any 
question which he was expected to discuss or to decide 
upon had become a great infliction; but the girl seemed to 
consider his silence equivalent to an assent, and added: 

“ I must leave this house immediately.” 

“ Why? ” inquired Arbanoff, so astonished that he hastily 
raised himself up on his elbow. “ May I ask your reasons? ” 

Ferra, who stood with her slender figure drawn up to its 
full height, kept her eyes riveted on the window, and the 
glow of the setting sun played around her beautiful head. 

“ How like a princess she looks as she stands there,” 
thought Achilles. “ It’s a pity, a great pity, but she has 
very little prospect of becoming one in spite of her 
marvelous beauty and regal air.” 

“ Is it possible that you have any reason to complain of 
our treatment of you, Ferra? ” he added, aloud. 

“You must understand my reasons, your Highness, you 
and the viscount as well. I trusted you, sir, as one natu- 
rally trusts a person to whom one owes everything. There 
was nothing I would not have cheerfully done at your bid- 
ding, and I was so firmly convinced that you had my wel- 
fare at heart that when you spoke again and again of the 
safe shelter the Arbanoff palace afforded m.e, how could I 
suspect for an instant that my sojourn here meant my ruin? ” 

Achilles passed his hand wearily over his forehead; he 
was really in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. 

“ Don’t take it so tragically, Ferra? ” he said, languidly. 
“ A person situated as you are must either lead the life of a 
nun, or make up her mind to be talked about and not to 
care what people say. 'I'his last is really the most sensible 
course, I think.” 

“ But you knew all this before, and it was very wrong in 
you to place me in such a position,” retorted Ferra, her 


38 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


eyes flashing indignantly. “ The only thing for me to do 
now, is to leave this house at once.” 

“ Where do you intend to go? ” 

“To some relatives of Clarisse in Brittany.” 

“ Impossible! That is quite out of the question.” 

“ Believe me, your Highness, I can not remain here any 
longer. I will not! I could not bear it! ” 

Slowly at first, then swiftly, big tears rose to her eyes 
and streamed down her lovely face, and in another minute 
she was sobbing like a child. 

Achilles rose nervously, and took her hands gently from 
her face. 

“ Don’t be unreasonable, Ferra. Wait just one week. 
By that time I shall be able to make some more satisfactory 
arrangements for you. Stop crying, I beg of you, it 
unnerves me completely and spoils your beauty. You shall 
have no further cause to complain of me, I promise you, if 
you will only have a little patience.” 

He sank back on the sofa again and gave himself up to 
his meditations, which were far from pleasant, it is needless 
to say. 

“ What an accursed fool I was! ” he said to himself, think- 
ing of the afternoon he first met Ferra on the boulevard. 
At last, to escape these disagreeable reflections, he ordered 
his carriage and drove to the club. 

But it seemed very much as if everything had conspired 
against him that day, for he found all his fellow clubmen 
talking of Ferra, and their teasing and envious remarks 
finally destroyed his patience entirely. 

“ I have given everybody to understand plainly enough, 
it seems to me, that I intend to protect that girl and her 
good name so long as she remains under my roof,” he 
remarked, angrily, to Prince Salerno; “and I’ll send a bullet 
through the brain of any man who dares to say anything 
against her — any man, I say, even if he were my dearest 
friend! ” 

So all his acquaintances drew down their faces and made 
no further allusion to the subject in his presence, but as 
soon as his back was turned the gossip began again, as he 
knew perfectly well, and the fact incensed him deeply. 
Returning home, weary and out of sorts, he sent a little 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


39 


later in the evening for Leroy. He felt a desire for 
immediate consultation with some one who might suggest 
a possible escape out of the difficulty that had so unex- 
pectedly presented itself, but whose advice he did not feel 
obliged to follow, unless it suited his own views. 

“ Good heavens! what is the trouble now?” exclaimed the 
attache, throwing himself into a chair by the fire. “ What 
induced you to send for me at this hour? ” 

Achilles made no reply. He examined his carefully kept 
nails some time in silence. The confession he was about to 
make was very distasteful to him. 

“Well, what is it?” Leroy again inquired, impatiently. 
“It’s about Ferra. You see, I feel responsible for her 
future welfare and happiness. I know I haven’t treated her 
exactly right in some respects, and — ” 

Leroy laughed long and boisterously. 

“ What a hypocrite you are, Achilles! ” he exclaimed. 

“ It was my duty of course to do all in my power to add 
to her happiness, but I did very wrong to send her to a 
public place without some one to protect her.” 

“ Oh, I’m not so sure about that! She was delighted at 
the idea of going, you recollect. Besides, people will talk, 
do what you will, so what does it matter? ” 

“ But it placed her in such a false position. She realizes 
it now, and insists upon leaving this house, and I really 
feel that I ought to atone for the injury I have done her, and 
not allow her to go out into the world where there is no 
one to care for her.” 

“ Nonsense! I don’t believe she has the slightest inten- 
tion of going. But what do you propose to do? ” 

“ I think that the only way to have any peace is to marry 
her.” 

“ Achilles! ” exclaimed the attache, springing up so 
violently that he overturned his chair, “ are you in earnest? ” 
“Certainly I am,” was the rather sullen reply. “I’ve 
done her an injury, and I intend to atone for it, if for no 
other reason, to have some peace of mind again. My 
constitution isn’t strong enough to stand this continual 
worry over matters I am able to settle in some other way.’' 

Two bright red spots burned on Leroy’s sallow cheeks. 
The fish he thought so securely hooked had escaped him, 


40 


THE FI-OWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


and he could only stand helpless on the shore, consumed 
with impotent rage. 

“ Achilles! ” he said, gently, placing his hand persua- 
sively on his companion’s shoulder, “ I have been your 
friend for years; promise me you will not do this thing 
hastily or without due deliberation. One generally makes 
a great mistake in yielding to these sudden impulses. Wait 
a week, just one week, before you announce your inten- 
tions to Ferra.” 

“I think I might just as well have a little peace now as 
then,” retorted Achilles, petulantly. “ And how am I to 
pacify her in the meantime?” 

“ Don’t see her.” 

“Oh, I’m very willing to promise that, so far as I am 
concerned, but I shan’t change my mind. I must atone to 
her for all this malicious gossip, and — ” 

“ In a week’s time, Achilles.” 

Achilles nodded his assent, and when they parted he 
pressed Leroy’s hand rather more warmly than usual. He 
considered his resolution irrevocable, and was delighted to 
feel that no further discussion of the matter was necessary. 

But that same night the attache posted with his own 
hand a letter addressed to old Prince Arbanoff, apprising 
him of his son’s latest whim, and urging the necessity of 
immediate interference if he would prevent his son’s mar- 
riage to a girl of the most ignoble origin. The only signa- 
ture appended to this masterpiece of diplomatic craftiness 
was the words: “A Friend.” 


CHAPTER VH. 

d’his letter was handed to Prince Constantine Arbanoff 
on his return from a wolf hunt. Taking time only for a 
hasty change of apparel and a hurried lunch, he drove at 
full speed to the nearest railway station, and took the most 
direct route for Paris. 

“ I’ll put a stop to the affair,” he said to himself, without 
any sentimental weakness, for he had not set eyes on his 
son or held any but the most formal intercourse with him 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


41 


for ten years. “ Achilles may as well make up his mind 
to that.” 

“ Good heavens! father, what brings you to Paris from 
the wilds of Russia so suddenly, and without giving me 
any intimation of your coming,” exclaimed Prince Achilles, 
amazed to see the tall, stalwart form of his sire suddenly 
loom up before him, a magnificent sable-lined overcoat 
thrown back from his broad shoulders, while his keen eyes 
took in at a glance all the luxurious appointments of the 
room, and the languid figure of his son, indolently reclin- 
ing in the depths of a huge easy-chair. “What brings you 
here? ” 

“ Business.” 

Unbounded astonishment shone in Achilles’ eyes. 

“ Business, father? ” he said, wonderingly, so strangely 
out of place did the word sound in the Arbanoff palace. 
“Well, be the business what it may, I am glad to see 
you.” 

But there was no sign of pleasure in the son’s haggard, 
weary face. Achilles foresaw only too plainly that innu- 
merable annoyances and complications were certain to 
result from his father’s presence; besides, the two men had 
very little real affection for each other. It was with a feeling 
closely akin to envy that the son gazed at the erect, vigorous 
form of his sire, who, but for his white hair, might easily 
have passed for the younger of the two. 

“ My poor boy! ” exclaimed the prince, compassionately, 
“what have they been doing to you here? You ought to 
return to the Russian steppes, and let the clear, bracing 
air put a little new life into you.” 

Achilles shuddered. 

“ For heaven's sake, what are you thinking of, father? 
I’ve enjoyed life, and certainly am not justified in asking 
for a second edition of it. We live faster in these days, 
and I’ve no right to complain.” 

When the steaming samovar was brought in — for Prince 
Constantine liked to have his national beverage served in 
the national fashion — and Leroy stepped up to the round 
table to do the honors, the guest remarked: 

“ It’s a pity there is no woman’s hand here to make our 
tea. That is something I never like to dispense with, Is 


42 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


there no one you can ask to perform this office for us, 
Achilles? ” 

“ Ferra might, I suppose,” replied his son, reluctantly. 
He dreaded his father’s questions, but concluded to send 
Ivan for her, nevertheless. 

“Must I go, Clarisse?” inquired Ferra, in utter dismay. 
“ You know what a terrible ordeal it will be to me.” 

“ Of course you will have to comply with the prince’s 
requests so long as you remain here. But you needn’t 
mind it, child. Prince Constantine is an old man; 
besides, I have written to my friends in Brittany about you, 
so the time of your departure is not far off.” 

“But Prince Constantine will probably form the same 
opinion of me that others have,” sighed the girl. 

“ Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said Clarisse, consolingly, as 
she smoothed the unruly locks of her young charge. “Do 
be reasonable, Ferra.” 

Be reasonable, be reasonable! How many times she 
had heard these words, and under what entirely different 
circumstances this advice had been given her. Realizing 
the utter uselessness of further opposition, she followed 
Ivan. 

The eyes of the old prince rested with evident admira- 
tion on the beautiful face of the girl, whose charms were 
greatly enhanced in his estimation by her evident guile- 
lessness and timid blushes. In fact, he ceased to marvel 
at Achilles’ choice, though he felt no whit inclined to 
sanction it. 

Poor Ferra passed a very uncomfortable hour behind the 
samovar. The two pairs of watchful eyes, that never wan- 
dered from her face for a moment, made her terribly 
nervous and awkward, and though the old prince addressed 
a pleasant remark to her now and then, she could not find a 
word to say in reply. She gave fervent thanks when the 
moment of release came, though Achilles deferred it as long 
as possible, so greatly did he dread the explanation that must 
needs follow her departure. But Prince Constantine, 
strange to say, evinced no disposition to question his son. 
He seemed to see nothing remarkable in this beautiful 
young girl’s presence in the Arbanoff palace, and with a 
sigh of relief Achilles excused himself for a short time. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


4a 


He was scarcely out of the room before Prince Constantine 
beckoned Leroy to his side, and said, in subdued tones. 

“You are the friend who apprised me of Achilles’ matri- 
monial intentions, are you not? ” 

The attache hesitated a minute. 

“Yes,” he replied, at last, deeming it advisable to main- 
tain a semblance of perfect frankness. 

“'I'he girl is handsome.” 

“Very handsome, your Highness.” 

“Quite unsophisticated, too, I should judge.” 

“ She left the convent only two months ago. The mind of 
such a mere child may be aptly described as an unwritten 
page.” 

“ Rather stupid, is she not? ” 

“Not stupid, only shy, your Highness.” 

“Where did Achilles pick her up? ” 

^ ^ ^ *1^ sfs 

“Very good ! ” said the prince, curtly, with a warning gest- 
ure, for his son appeared in the doorway just as Leroy 
finished his story. “ Not another word now.” 

Prince Constantine seemed desirous of conferring happi- 
ness upon each and every member of the large establish- 
ment, however humble. He not only bestowed a handsome 
sum of money on Ivan, who was born on the Arbanoff 
estates, but even condescended so far as to visit Clarisse 
and express his appreciation of her valuable services. 

In her wonder and delight the old housekeeper courtesied 
nearly to the ground. 

“ Your Highness is goodness itself! ” she exclaimed. “ I 
feel it indeed an honor to be intrusted with the charge of 
the Arbanoff palace, but I must say that I have always 
endeavored to perform my duties faithfully, and that — ” 

But here she suddenly perceived that she was holding 
forth to the empty air. Prince Constantine’s keen eyes had 
discerned, through a half-open door leading into the adjoin- 
ing room, a mirror which showed him Ferra’s slender form 
leaning over her flowers at the window, and quick as 
thought the prince crossed the threshold and approached 
her. 

“ Good-morning, mademoiselle,” he said, pleasantly, “ I 


44 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


feel curious to know if you are always as silent as, 1 am sorry 
to say, you were last evening when you kindly made our tea 
for us. Beautiful ladies should laugh and talk; that is 
much more becoming to them than silence.” 

“I am no beautiful lady, your Highness.” 

It was no false modesty that prompted these words. 
Ferra was perfectly well aware that she was comely to look 
upon, but in her mind a lady was always associated with 
rich apparel and costly jewels, and she possessed none of 
these things.” 

“You must allow me to differ with you,” said Prince 
Constantine, gallantly. “ But I suppose you very naturally 
reserve all your powers of pleasing for Achilles, and he 
loves you all the better for it, does he not? ” 

Ferra gazed at him with a look of profound astonishment 
on her expressive face. 

“Who has led you to imagine such a thing?” she asked, 
wonderingly. 

“My son; Achilles himself.” 

“I am only a burden to him, your Highness,” said the 
girl, deeply mortified, her eyes fixed upon the floor; “but 
what can I do? I haven’t a friend in the whole wide world 
to whom I can appeal for protection.” 

“ You are very much mistaken, Ferra. My son loves 
you, I tell you.” 

“Oh, no, your Highness,” and now her clear eyes met his 
unflinchingly; “ the person who told you so, basely deceived 
you. I know very little about love, but 1 do know that 
Prince Achilles has not one atom of love for me.” 

“And you?” 

“ I was very grateful to him, your Highness, for he saved 
me from want and misery.” 

“And now? Why do you speak in the past tense?” 

“ Because I am going away, your Highness.” 

“ Has any one grieved or insulted you? ” 

“Yes, the whole world. 1 did not know what I was 
doing when I took up my abode here.” 

“ Poor child! ” said Prince Constantine, taking her hand, 
compassionately. “ Can I help you in any way? ” 

“ Perhaps so, your Highness. Clarisse wrote to some 
relatives of hers in Brittany asking them to take me, but 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


45 


they refused; I should only be a trouble, they think; so 
now 1 don’t know where to go, though the farther from 
here 1 went, the better I should like it.” 

“ Poor child! poor child!” 

Prince Constantine sighed as he gazed at the lovely, 
blushing face before him. 

“It is a pity that one must grow old,” he murmured, 
thoughtfully. 

“ Are you really old? ” asked Ferra, wonderingly. “ Per- 
haps that is the reason I feel I can trust you so much more 
than any one else.” 

“Thank you,” he replied, pressing her hand gently. 
“Are you fond of flowers, Ferra?” 

“ Very.” 

“ Then let me send you some every morning, so I may 
give you at least a little pleasure, for yours is a hard lot, 
Ferra. Good-by, my child.” 

Ferra sat deeply absorbed in thought for some time after 
the prince’s departure. She felt much flattered by this 
proof of his interest, but what did the friendship of these 
aristocrats profit her when she knew not where to lay her 
head. 

The following day, soon after she took her seat at the 
tea urn. Prince Constantine approached her and said in a 
low tone, evidently intended for her ear alone: 

“ I hoped to see a bunch of violets at your throat, my 
child. Was 1 so unfortunate as not to please your taste in 
the flowers I selected?” 

“Oh, no, your Highness. You were very, very kind,” 
replied Ferra, blushing deeply. The superb basket of 
choice flowers which had given her so much pleasure had 
been carried to her own room, but she had not ventured to 
disturb a single blossom. 

“ You say that to everybody; but will you convince me of 
your gratitude and pleasure by always wearing some of the 
flowers I send you? I ask it as a favor.” 

After that Ferra wore a fresh breast-knot of the fragrant 
blossoms every afternoon. It gave the much-needed touch 
of color to her plain dark gown, and Prince Constantine, 
whose eyes were ever wandering from the flowers to the 
sweet face above them, lingered by her side and chatted with 


4G 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


her until her natural grace and ease of manner reasserted 
themselves, and her fresh merry laugh and his deep sonor- 
ous voice resounded through the room, dispelling its 
wonted gloom. 

“ She is the craftiest coquette and the most calculating 
creature that ever lived,” muttered Leroy, compelled, sorely 
against his will, to accord her that respect which a man of 
the world feels only for the successful. If Ferra, in spite 
of her extreme youth, her convent training, and entire 
ignorance of the ways of the world, was capable of thus 
captivating the old prince, there could be no doubt that she 
would become an extremely fascinating woman eventually, 
and she must be treated accordingly. 

Ferra was presiding at the tea table, as usual, one evening, 
and Achilles was complaining of a headache, when Prince 
Constantine broached the subject of his intended departure. 

“ I start for home to-morrow,” he remarked, in the most 
casual manner. 

“ So .soon? ” exclaimed Achilles, with a faint show of 
politeness. ‘‘ It is quite evident that Paris has no great 
attraction for you.” 

But in his secret heart Achilles was not at all sorry that 
the restraint which his father’s presence imposed was about 
to end. 

The old prince looked at Ferra. 

“ I am sorry, your Highness; very sorry,” she murmured, 
'her eyes filling with tears. 

“Will you miss me, child?” 

“Very, very much, your Highness.” 

She spoke the truth. It seemed to her that her good 
angel was about to desert her. She had felt much easier 
in mind ever since he had been in the palace; his presence 
had seemed an effectual preventive of the evil construction 
placed upon her sojourn there; but now he was going 
away, she would be as lonely and as defenseless as before, 
with a dangerous enemy at hand in the person of Leroy, 
whose evil intentions she instinctively divined without 
really understanding how seriously they might affect her 
welfare and future happiness. 

“ Give me that flower at your throat, Ferra, for a token 
of remembrance. I will bid you farewell to-morrow.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


47 


Trembling and blushing, she handed him the rose he 
asked for. 

“That girl is sunshine itself,” said Prince Constantine, 
his eyes still fastened on the door which Ferra had just 
closed behind her. 

“ Perpetual sunshine is very unpleasant, it dazzles one 
so. I never admit it into my dwelling.” 

As he spoke, Achilles rose to his feet slowly and pain- 
fully, supporting himself by the table as if completely 
exhausted. Something very like wonder shone in his eyes 
as he surveyed his father’s erect, stalwart form. 

“I feel almost inclined to envy you, father. What! 
such susceptibility still! such a capacity for enjoyment! 
such boundless vitality! when all I ask is rest and quiet. 
Good-night.” 

Prince Constantine gazed earnestly after his son as he 
left the room with languid, dragging steps. Once he 
made a sudden movement as if about to call him back, 
then his hand fell at his side, and he straightened him- 
self up. 

“ No, it would only be a waste of breath,” he muttered, 
shaking his head gloomily. “ Ashes, nothing but ashes 
left! ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Ferra was sitting in Clarisse’s small sitting-room a little 
later in the evening, clad in a simple but dainty dressing- 
gown she was fond of wearing when alone. She sat with 
her head resting pensively on her hand, evidently much 
depressed in spirits. What was to become of her? This 
momentous question haunted her continuously and relent- 
lessly. 

There was a faint tap at the door. She sprang up. 
Prince Constantine was standing on the threshold. 

“ Don’t be alarmed. I only came to say good-by, my 
child,” he said, in the kind, friendly manner he had mani- 
fested toward her ever since his eyes first rested admiringly 
on her face; “and this evening seemed to be the best 
opportunity I should have after all.” 


48 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Blushing and embarrassed, she drew her peignoir more 
closely around her, wondering if she ought not to summon 
Clarisse and make a more careful toilet; but Prince Con- 
stantine read her thoughts, perhaps, for, approaching her, 
he laid his hand lightly on her shoulder, and said, smiling; 

“ Don’t be so troubled, Ferra. I am an old man, and cer- 
tainly may be allowed to talk with you frankly, and without 
ceremony. You wish to leave the house. I understand 
your reasons perfectly. You are a good girl, and 1 heartily 
approve your decision, but where will you go? ” 

“ I really do not know, your Highness.” 

“Beautiful, poor, and friendless, you are ill-prepared to 
battle with this heartless world,” said the prince, sadly. 
“ The thought that misfortune may befall you is intolerable 
to me. You are too dear to me. Come with me, Ferra.” 

“If I only could! ” A ray of inexpressible joy beamed 
from her eyes as she spoke. The prince was an old man; 
under his protection she would be safe from the trials and 
the calumnies of the world; besides, he was so kind and 
friendly. She was fully sensible of the difference between 
his manner and that of his son. 

“Let us talk the matter over first, my child,” replied 
Prince Constantine, stroking his white beard thoughtfully. 
“ You are too hasty in your conclusions; you have not con- 
sidered the consequences sufficiently yet. In the first 
place, you must needs leave Paris, and perhaps forever.” 

“AVhat do I care for that?” 

“And my son? Tell me frankly, do you care for him?” 

Prince Constantine’s eyes were fixed anxiously on the 
lovely, drooping face. 

“ I am grateful to him,” she faltered, much embarrassed. 

“But you do not love him. Thank God for that! Any- 
thing like affection would be utterly wasted on him. Dust 
and ashes can not be awakened ihto new life. No woman’s 
heart could remain faithful to such a man, nor would any 
one be justified in reproaching her for her infidelity; but — ” 

Prince Constantine checked himself abruptly. He 
seemed greatly agitated. 

“ But why do I hesitate? ” he continued, eagerly, breath- 
ing hard and drawing a step nearer. “ True, I am an old, 
man, and people think ardent passion in the heart and gray 


The flower girl of paris. 


49 


hair do not go together. Nevertheless, Ferra, I love you; 
not as a father loves his daughter, but as a man loves the 
woman to whom he says, ‘Will you be my wife.’ ” 

Ferra retreated a few steps in terror, staring at him in 
evident incredulity. She could not have understood him 
aright. Her ears must have deceived her. 

“Ferra, will you go with me, and be my wife?” 

He had repeated the words; there could be no further 
doubt. A feeling of delight so intense that it made her 
brain reel took possession of her. Farewell to all care 
and anxiety concerning her future now! Farewell to this 
incessant humiliation and despondency. With a single 
bound she had reached the goal toward which so many 
hands were longingly outstretched. She did not welcome 
this change of fortune humbly and meekly, but with 
triumphant exultation, and it was with a cry of delight she 
threw herself into Prince Constantine’s outstretched arms. 

“ Yes, yes! ” she cried, in a sort of ecstasy. 

He stroked her golden hair tenderly and pressed her to 
his heart, a smile of supreme content upon his lips. 

“You are so young, Ferra, and it is such a momentous 
decision,” he murmured; “affecting one’s whole life, my 
child. But I will take care that you never have cause to 
regret it. Your soul is an unwritten page, and so far as 
any record of sorrow or pain is concerned, it shall remain 
so while I live.” 

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. He seemed 
to realize so fully that however buoyant one’s temperament 
may be, youth is irrevocably lost when the face becomes 
furrowed and the vision dimmed. Ferra divined the 
unspoken regret, and bending over his hand she kissed it 
tenderly, murmuring: 

“ You are so good to me, your Highness; so good! ” 

Clarisse, who was in the adjoining room, had noticed the 
sound of voices. 

“ Who can be talking to Ferra all this time? ” she said to 
herself. “ Can it be that old chatter-box, Ivan, or — or 
some stranger? Impossible! But, really, I can’t have such 
goings on. It reflects upon me and the reputation of the 
house. I shall give Ferra a piece of my mind.” 

She walked angrily to the door and threw it open; then 
4 


50 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


clasped her hands in mingled astonishment and dismay as 
she stood gazing at the offenders, her cap strings quivering 
with excitement the while. Ferra her own particular 
charge in the arms of Prince Constantine! Speechless 
with consternation, she stood as if she expected to see the 
heavens fall and crush her. 

The prince turned. 

“Come in, Clarisse,” he said, in his friendly but rather 
imperious way. “ I am glad we can have a full under- 
standing here and now. Ferra has promised to accompany 
me to Russia, and you must act as a witness to our mar- 
riage to-morrow. Until then you will take good care of 
my bride for me, will you not?” 

“Your Highness!” shrieked Clarisse, “you surely are not 
in earnest. Ferra, the little flower girl from the Rue 
Rochefort? ” 

Words failed her, and she dropped into the nearest chair. 

“ Exactly so; but first I shall get one of my countrymen 
to adopt her, so no one will have occasion to mention this 
fact in future. I see that you are greatly surprised, 
Clarisse, but try to compose yourself, and above all recol- 
lect that you are to keep your discovery a profound 
secret.” 

“ But what will Prince Achilles say? ” groaned the house- 
keeper. 

“ Little or nothing, probably. Do you fancy his heart 
will break if I depart without any formal leave-taking and 
take Ferra with me? ” 

Clarisse did not seem to notice the covert sarcasm. She 
sat there like a veritable Cassandra, staring at the prince 
with horrified eyes. 

“Good heavens! good heavens!” she exclaimed again, 
and again, under her breath. 

“ Don’t act like one bereft of reason, Clarisse. I shall • 
send for you to-morrow at ten o’clock; be in readiness; and 
in the meantime watch over the welfare of the future 
Princess Arbanoff, my promised bride.” 

He drew Ferra to him and kissed her tenderly and pas- 
sionately, his face beaming with happiness. 

“Until to-morrow,” he whispered, fondly. 

As he left the room Clarisse uttered a sepulchral groan; 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


51 


but Ferra flung her arms around the old housekeeper’s 
neck. 

“ How fortunate I am ! How wondrously blessed, 
Clarisse! I shall have a home at last! I shall be pre- 
sented at court all blazing with diamonds, and be called 
your Highness! I shall have a lovely pair of ponies too, 
and dresses from Worth. Oh, Prince Constantine is so 
kind. You have no idea how kind he is to me, Clarisse! ” 

“But why all this secrecy?” asked Clarisse, by no means 
convinced. 

“The prince wishes it, and he must know best. I’m 
glad of it, too. I shan’t have to see the viscount again, 
now. How furious he will be, and how utterly amazed!” 

And Ferra laughed long and merrily at the thought of 
her enemy’s discomfiture, her eyes sparkling with delight 
the while. 

The next day all the prince’s arrangements were duly 
carried out. First the adoption that transformed Ferra 
Dontrange into a Russian aristocrat before she became 
the Princess Arbanoff; then the marriage, and before the 
tea hour arrived the newly married pair were far away. 


CHAPTER IX. 

It was a clear, cold January night. Staid, respectable 
citizens had long since retired to the seclusion of their 
homes, and the footfall of an occasional belated pleasure- 
seeker alone broke the stillness of the streets, deserted 
now even in the heart of the capital of one of our prin- 
-cipalities. 

A tall, slender lady, enveloped in a rich mantle of dark 
crimson brocaded stuff in which a thread of gold sparkled 
now and then in the light of the street lamps, was walking 
down one of these silent thoroughfares. On her head she 
wore a fleecy white capuchin hood, the point of which was 
drawn low down upon her forehead, almost concealing her 
profile from view. 

She was walking neither slowly nor rapidly, but at a 
moderate pace, as if treating herself to a pleasant prome- 


52 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


nade, though the ponderous bell of the cathedral was just 
striking eleven. 

The sound seemed to arouse her from a reverie, for she 
suddenly paused, smilingly shook her head, and glanced up 
to read the name of the next street. Then she laughed 
again, half aloud this time, and looked up and down the 
street with its endless rows of gaslights, so puzzling in their 
uniformity. 

“How absurd! I’ve really lost my way,” she said to 
herself, sotto voce. “What will Maria Paulowna say?” 

She turned and began to retrace her steps at a quicker 
pace this time, though she was evidently amused rather 
than alarmed. 

A short distance behind her walked a tall, handsome, 
well-dressed gentleman, whose curiosity had evidently been 
excited by. the distinguished appearance and bearing of 
this lonely pedestrian, and when she paused again, as if in 
doubt, at ihe next corner, a few quick steps brought him to 
her side, and lifting his hat he said, courteously: 

“ Pardon me, madame, but you seem to have lost your 
way. May I have the pleasure of directing you? ” 

A pair of big, lustrous eyes took a hasty but searching 
survey of the speaker, then a fair jeweled hand pulled the 
white hood still farther down over the wearer’s face, and a 
cool, perfectly self-possessed “ No, thank you,” was the 
sole response deigned. 

Again lifting his hat, but in silence this time, the gen- 
tleman stepped back, and the lady walked on as if sure of 
her way, though she really had no idea where she was. 

The measured tread of the gentleman who had accosted 
her so politely now resounded on the other side of the 
street. He seemed disposed to trouble himself no further 
about her, and even to consider it the most natural thing in 
the world that a lady should be in the street alone at this 
hour of the night. 

She had considered him guilty of an unpardonable lib- 
erty in addressing her, but as she thought of his gentle- 
manly manner and appearance, she felt angry with herself 
for her curt refusal, and she was even considering the 
advisability of crossing the street and asking his protec- 
tion, when the door of a house surmounted by a red Ian- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


53 


tern flew open and a crowd of half-intoxicated youths 
rushed out. Seeing the lady, they instantly formed a circle 
around her. 

“ Stop, my precious, not a step farther until you have 
paid toll!” cried one young fellow, approaching her with 
arms outstretched. 

“Stand aside, gentlemen! ” 

The command was uttered in a haughty, imperious tone, 
but the lads — they were little more — evinced no disposition 
to obey; on the contrary, they joined hands and began to 
execute a sort of war dance about their victim. 

“ Stand aside, instantly,” the lady repeated, stamping 
her foot and angrily dashing back her .white hood, thereby 
disclosing to view in the light of a neighboring street lamp, 
a piquant, delicately rounded face; big, shining eyes, and 
luxuriant masses of red-gold hair. 

“Zounds! but she’s a beauty!” exclaimed one of the 
youths, in a distinctly audible tone; but they showed no 
intention of releasing their victim. 

“ I think it is quite time to end this scene, gentlemen,” 
interposed a clear, ringing voice, as a gloved hand was laid 
authoritatively on the ringleader’s shoulder. “We all 
ought to have been at home long ago.” 

'I’here was such a manifest superiority in the speaker’s 
tone and bearing that the young men offered no resistance. 

“ Stand aside, boys, and let Hans get to his Gretchen,” 
cried one of the gay crowd, good-naturedly. “One, two; 
one, two, forward march! ” And they rushed off, shouting 
and laughing. 

The lady and her self-appointed protector were left 
alone together. 

“Shall I be repulsed if I venture to renew my offer of 
assistance, madame? ” 

“Oh, no, I am deeply grateful to you.” 

“Will you take my arm? ” 

“In one moment. I must first arrange my wrappings.” 

He waited, watching her closely the while. The move- 
ments of her hands, one of which was incased in a long 
glove reaching to the elbow; the delicate perfume that 
emanated from her garments, and, above all, her carriage, 
all satisfied him beyond a doubt that this was a grande 


54 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


dame. But how did such a person happen to be on the 
streets alone and unprotected at this late hour? It was a 
mystery he could not solve. 

She finally accepted his proffered arm, casting a quick, 
scrutinizing glance at him the while. He was certainly 
very attractive in appearance. Slender, dark complexioned, 
with rather melancholy eyes and a heavy mustache, his 
was unquestionably the type of manhood she most admired. 
Her manner became less constrained, and as if to make 
amends for her former curtness she leaned a little more 
freely on his arm. He noticed it, and the least shadow of 
a smile played around his lips. 

“I have yet to thank you,” she at last ventured, timidly. 
“ But for your timely interference I should have been sub- 
jected to great annoyance. I had no idea that young men 
could be so rude.” 

“You must not be too hard on them. It is very unusual 
to see a lady on the street alone so late at night, and — ” 

He checked himself abruptly, but his shrug of the shoul- 
ders was very expressive. 

“Good heavens! you surely do not consider that any 
excuse for them? ” 

“Not much, perhaps, but when one violates a long- 
established custom, one should not marvel at the conse- 
quences.” 

“You are severe.” 

“By no means; but I assure you that no lady of my 
acquaintance would dare to run such a risk.” 

“I am my own mistress, fortunately, and so am account- 
able to no one; besides, I felt confident that people would 
be able to discriminate.” 

“As you perceived just now,” he retorted, laughing sar- 
castically. 

“ But how about yourself? ” she responded, gayly. “ Did 
you, too, feel some doubts as to the conclusion you must 
draw?” 

“ I? Not for one instant; but you must not infer that I 
am any more inclined to approve on that account. I am 
perfectly frank, you see, madame.” 

“ And I will be equally so,” the lady replied, a little less 
boldly. “I am a stranger in the city, and on leaving the 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


55 


theater, the cool, fresh air and the darkness seemed so 
delightful after the heat and glare of the crowded hall, that 
I sent away my carriage, intending to walk home. I flat- 
tered myself I knew my way perfectly, but I walked on 
and on — ” 

“ How imprudent! You must be terribly fatigued.” 

“ Not at all. I am in the habit of taking long walks.” 

“ Where shall I take you? ” 

She named a fashionable street, where only the most 
exclusive families in the city resided, and noticed that her 
companion gazed at her with evident surprise. 

“We are very near there now,” he remarked, quietly. 

“Will you do me a favor? ” exclaimed the lady, suddenly 
pausing. “Will you have the kindness to forget this 
unfortunate adventure. Not that I am in the least ashamed 
of it,” she continued, a trifle haughtily; “but I see what 
you think of my ^harmless escapade, and should be very 
sorry to have others form the same opinion? ” 

“You can rely upon my discretion,” was the dignified 
response. 

“Nor is that all,” she continued; “I prefer that you 
should not escort me to my own door, but leave me when 
we reach the corner of Crown Prince Street. From there 
I shall have no difficulty in finding my way.” 

“Certainly, if you desire it.” 

“ And you are to make no attempt to find out who I am, 
afterward.” 

“If it will be any satisfaction to you, madame, I will 
say that I take very little interest in so-called romantic 
adventures.” 

“Oh!” There was unmistakable astonishment, and 
possibly a tinge of chagrin in her tone. “ I really can not 
see that that fact has anything to do with this affair. Still, 
let us comfort ourselves with the assurance that this will 
be our last meeting.” 

She offered him her hand, for they had reached the 
spot designated. 

“ This last request of yours is the only one that I can not 
promise to fulfill,” he answered, gravely. 

“ Nevertheless, I am perfectly satisfied. Good-night, 
and many thanks for your chivalrous protection.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


•oG 


“Which would have been at the service of any other 
lady similarly situated.” 

He raised the jeweled hand respectfully to his lips, hailed 
a passing cab, and sprang into it. 

“He evidently has very little desire to see any more of 
me,” murmured the lady, and it was evident that she 
marveled a little thereat. 

The house she entered a few minutes afterward was one 
of the handsomest on this ultra-fashionable street, and the 
brilliantly lighted hall into which she stepped was richly 
decorated with rare exotics and costly statuary. 

“ Madame desired me to say that she was awaiting your 
Highness in the blue drawing-room,” said a liveried servant, 
bowing low before her. 

The young Princess Arbanoff — for it was she — nodded, 
threw aside her cloak, and walked briskly toward the blue 
salon, where her relative, Frau von Bogdanoff, was half- 
reclining in a big easy-chair, nibbling bon-bons. 

“ Did you feel anxious about me?” inquired Ferra, ready 
to acknowledge her fault. 

“ Not in the least. Why should I feel anxious, merely 
because you preferred to walk home instead of drive? 
Every woman has her whims, and you are old enough to 
indulge yours, if you choose.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed Ferra, laughing, and tossing her 
fleecy white hood on the nearest chair, “ this is very con- 
siderate of you, my dear Pussy, but you see I have not for- 
gotten that Prince Constantine was always anxious if I 
overstaid my time even a few moments.” 

Marie Paulowna shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, 
pushed the dish of bon-bons aside, and drawing a richly 
wrought smoking set toward her, proceeded to roll and 
light a cigarette with practiced fingers. 

“ Won’t you have some tea, Ferra? ” she asked, carelessly. 

“Yes, thanks. It is quite cold out.” 

“You look as blooming as a rose.” 

“ I have had an adventure; a real adventure. Pussy.” 

“Wait until you make yourself more comfortable before 
you tell me about it. Let Jacqueline undress you, and 
bring you your tea first. You can chat so much more 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


57 


enjoyably. It is only 12 o’clock, so we have another hour 
to talk before I go to bed.” 

Ferra nodded assent. A peremptory peal of the bell 
brought a well-trained maid, who picked up the hood from 
the floor upon which it had fallen, and followed her young 
mistress into the suite of apartments to the right of the hall, 
these being appropriated to the exclusive use of the Prin- 
cess Arbanoff, while Mme. von Bogdanoff occupied a 
similar suite on the left, the blue drawing-room alone being 
common property. 

Pussy Bogdanoff, as she was called by her intimate 
friends, was a tiny woman, with a rather swarthy com- 
plexion, sharp black eyes, and an essentially Tartaric cast 
of features. She smoked incessantly, and never hesitated 
to say anything that came into her head. She gave every 
one plainly to understand that she possessed very little 
affection; in fact, that she cared nothing for anything or 
anybody, and she was often sarcastic to the verge of posi- 
tive cruelty. During her husband’s lifetime, she had 
played a prominent rOle in diplomatic circles as ambassa- 
dress at several different courts, and had been involved in 
numerous intrigues, though without ever having compro- 
mised herself. Quite recently she had established herself at 

the Court of D , where she was on the best of terms 

with the reigning prince, visiting where she pleased, doing 
what she pleased, and exercising her wit in the most 
unsparing fashion upon anybody and everybody. 

Constantine Arbanoff was her cousin, and when she first 
heard of his marriage she shrugged her shoulders and 
called him a fool; but when she saw Ferra, she laughed 
and said, “Ah, I understand everything now.” 

Her credulity was not put to the test, however, for the 
youthful bride was supposed to be the niece of one 
Dmitri Nasakoff, who had educated her at the Convent of 
the Sacred Heart in Paris. No one knew anything about her 
adoption, her subsequent sojourn in the Arbanoff palace, or 
her obscure origin. It had not been necessary for Con- 
stantine Arbanoff to urge upon Ferra the expediency of 
keeping these matters a secret. In her present exalted 
position, these were episodes of which she felt deeply 
ashamed. 


58 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


When Prince Arbanoff had been married about a year, 
he learned the Bogdanoffs were in St. Petersburg, 
whither they had been sent on an important diplomatic 
mission, and he resolved to intrust his young, inexperienced 
wife to the charge of the ambassador’s worldly wise 
spouse, who was also to present her at court. 

Maria Paulowna promised this the more willingly as she 
always took great delight in surrounding herself with youth- 
ful beauties, though she frankly admitted that she usually 
paid dear for this weakness; but her character was really 
entirely free from petty envy and jealousy. 

On the very evening of the court festival at which Ferra 
was to be presented to her sovereign, as she sat muffled to 
the ears in blue fox beside her adoring husband, their 
spirited horses took fright; the vehicle was overturned, and 
Constantine Arbanoff was so seriously hurt that after being 
confined to his bed for nearly a year he finally died of his 
injuries. 

The unconscious man, together with his wife, who had 
escaped death only by a miracle, was carried into the Bog- 
danoff mansion, and Maria Paulowna never forgot the 
impression made upon her by the sight of that tall, slender 
form, superbly gowned in pale-blue satin embroidered in 
silver, and the colorless face framed in rich masses of red- 
gold hair. 

When Constantine Arbanoff and Peter Paul Bogdanoff 
died in the same year, the latter’s widow, who was not 
inconsolable, by the way, spent the following summer in 

the delightfully situated city of D , to which court her 

husband had been sent in an official capacity shortly before 
his death. At first, it had been her intention to leave the 
city in a short time, but many business matters having 
combined to detain her, she finally concluded to take up 
her permanent abode there. 

She had a large house in the most fashionable part of 
the city, only half of which she occupied, and where she 
made herself wonderfully comfortable; but she finally came 
to the conclusion that she would enjoy herself still better if 
she had a young companion of her own rank in life, and 
the immediate result of this conclusion was the following 
letter to Ferra Arbanoff: 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


59 


“You are a widow,” she wrote, “young, beautiful, and 
rich. It would be utter folly to spend the rest of your days 
in seclusion, mourning for my cousin. Life has its claims 
upon you, and you have a right to all that life can give. 
By reason of your youth, you can not dispense with a 
duenna, at least not without exciting unpleasant comment. 

Come to me. The court of D is no social El Dorado, but 

it is certainly much more amusing than the Russian steppes. 
You can make your stay as long or as short as you please. 
Get rid of your companion and order some dresses from 
Worth. Half of my house is at your disposal. Bring your 
maid with you. We will promise not to exercise the 
slightest restraint upon each other; on the contrary, we will 
both enjoy perfect freedom of action; neither will we bore 
each other with protestations of undying affection. We are 
both alone in the world, and are certainly sensible enough 
to live together in cordial fellowship and mutual tolerance. 
Such an arrangement would be an advantage to both of us. 
Be kind enough to telegraph me the date of your arrival.” 

Maria Paulownadid not doubt that her invitation would 
be accepted, and she was right in her supposition. In less 
than a week the young princess was comfortably estab- 
lished under Mme. von Bogdanoff’s roof and protection. 

Ferra was two and twenty now, and her form was fuller and 
her beauty even more remarkable than at the time of her mar- 
riage. Her friend foresaw that Ferra was sure to create a 
sensation at court, and though this sensation would be but a 
tempest in a teapot, as the saying is, it would be no less 
amusing to Maria PaUlOwna on that account, and Maria 
Paulowna was dying for some amusement of this sort. 

In less than forty-eight hours she had gained a tolerably 
fair insight into Ferra’s character, but was curious to see 
the effect which the pleasures and excitement of court life 
would have upon her beautiful cousin. 

The first test was to come off on the morrow, and 
already she beheld in imagination the faces of Prince Dago- 
bert and Princess Sibylle, and the astonishment and admi- 
ration of the crowd of courtiers. 

Half-reclining in her big arm-chair, gazing dreamily 
through curling wreaths of smoke up at the big crystal 
chandelier, in which only two gas-jets were dimly burning. 


GO 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


she was picturing the whole scene, when Ferra re-entered 
the room. 

She had removed her rich evening dress, and donned a 
tea-gown of some soft Turkish fabric, and the rich masses 
of her unbound hair fell in great waves over her neck and 
shoulders. Pussy Bogdanoff scrutinized her guest through 
her half-closed eyelids as if she had been a work of art. 

“You are as pretty as a picture in that negligee,” she 
exclaimed, appreciatively. “ I must make the most of my 
time. After to-morrow, I am not likely to secure many 
tetes-a-tetes with you.” 

Ferra laughed as she sank into an arm-chair and pressed 
her soft cheek against the rich blue satin. 

“ I shall not have a very exalted opinion of my charms 
after this evening, in spite of . your compliments,” she 
retorted, gaily. 

“ And why? ” 

“ I told you I had an adventure, you recollect. Ah well, 
I am forced to admit that I didn’t make much of an 
impression upon the gentleman who figured in it.” 

She took a sip of tea from her tiny Sevres cup, and then 
gave another soft laugh. Her husband’s adoration had 
given her such confidence in the irresistible power of her 
personal charms, that the apparent indifference of her new 
acquaintance only amused her. 

With another soft musical laugh she proceeded to narrate 
her adventure. 

“ And he did not even turn to glance after me,” she said 
in conclusion, setting down her cup and selecting a cigar- 
ette. “ It was quite a thrilling adventure; don’t you think 
so. Pussy? ” 

“ That is Rommingen’s way, exactly.” 

Ferra started violently, and her cigarette fell to the floor 
unheeded. 

“ Is it possible that you know the man? Why didn’t you 
say so before? ” 

“ I couldn’t until you had finished your story.” 

“ Is he tall, and slender, and dark-complexioned, and 
very distinguished looking?” 

“ Yes; besides no one but Rommingen — ” 

“Plain Rommingen?” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


G1 


“Detlef, Count Rommingen Erdenflueh, Prince Dago- 
bert’s adjutant.” 

“ Ah! ” 

There was a tinge of unmistakable satisfaction in the 
smile that curved her red lips as Ferra once more sank 
back in her arm-chair with a fresh cigarette between her 
pearly teeth. 

“ Tell me something more about him.” 

“ Well, he is not my style, at all,” replied Mme. von 
Bogdanoff. “ He is much too reserved, and ceremonious, 
and critical to suit me. Such men make one too uncomfort- 
able. They are so severe in their strictures upon persons 
who do not conform to their ideas. They esteem women 
only in proportion to the virtues they possess, and are 
much too prone to consider large feet a sign of brains. 
Rommingen always impresses me as being a sort of legend- 
ary saint. I believe the only woman he ever loved was his 
grandmother, and he is trying to find her counterpart in 
this generation.” 

“ He is certainly very handsome.” 

Yes, and such a favorite at court that my old friend 
Neukirch is often very jealous of him. But the clock is 
striking one. Good-night, cousin.” 

Maria Paulowna retired to her own apartments on the 
other side of the hall. She was very methodical in her 
habits; but the young princess lingered for some time, 
gazing dreamily into the dying embers. 

Was she merely dreaming of the social triumphs the 
future might have in store for her? 


CHAPTER X. 

The palace of the reigning potentate was always veiled 
in gloom. Duke Auguste Theodore being naturally a 
recluse in his tastes, years, as well as sundry unfortunate 
experiences of a domestic nature, had greatly increased his 
love of solitude. All matters connected with the adminis- 
tration of his government received his untiring care and 
attention, and he was profoundly respected by his people; 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


G2 


but almost his only visitor was his nephew, the heir-pre- 
sumptive to the throne of this bachelor uncle. He devoted 
all his leisure time to the study of astronomy, and on all 
great occasions compelled his old chamberlain to act as his 
substitute. The only woman ever admitted within his 
doors was the Princess Sibylle, who often came to com- 
plain of her husband; and though she generally had good 
grounds for her dissatisfaction, and the old duke was 
usually forced to admit that his nephew was in fault, the 
lady herself was no favorite with him. 

He ventured a mild rebuke now and then, but on such 
occasions Prince Dagobert usually laughed, and said, with 
a shrug of his shoulders: 

“ Oh! what’s the use, uncle? She had money, you know, 
and money was a scarce commodity with us. I bear my 
yoke very patiently. I’m sure; but if I endeavor to lighten 
it a little occasionally, who can blame me? ” 

No one did; on the contrary, Prince Dagobert was loved 
and respected far more than he deserved to be. 

Auguste Theodore resided in the old palace, an anti- 
quated but quite imposing structure of massive stone, with- 
out ornamentation of any kind. Prince Dagobert and his 
wife occupied the new palace, a superb edifice, built of red 
sandstone, and adorned with costly statuary, rich carpets, 
and superb hangings. In fact, it was so luxurious and 
elegant in all its appointments that even the habitues of the 
place never wearied of extolling its beauties. 

In this castle, in the magnificent mirror-lined hall which 
was the admiration of all the surrounding country, the first 
ball of the season was to take place that same evening, and 
Mme. von Bogdanoff had requested permission to present 
her cousin to their royal highnesses on this occasion. Said 
permission, it is needless to say, had been readily granted; 
that lady’s social position, and the spotless reputation on 
which she so prided herself, being sufficient guarantee for 
her fair young relative. 

The two ladies came late. The crush in the halls and 
on the stairways was over, and only a few late arrivals were 
hastening to the famous Hall of Mirrors; so Mme. von 
Bogdanoff and Ferra were entirely alone in the spacious 
dressing-room when the young princess removed the long 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


ea 


wrap that had enveloped her slender form. She wore a 
gown of rich white satin, the sole garniture being bunches 
of marabout feathers, in which sprays of diamonds sparkled 
here and there. The low corsage was edged with the same 
feathers, and a tiny cluster adorned the red-gold hair. In 
its costly simplicity the gown was the perfection of quiet 
elegance, and Ferra looked entrancingly lovely in it. 

“ Make haste, Ferra; we are dreadfully late,” exclaimed 
her chaperone. 

Just as they reached the hall, the doors leading into the 
royal apartments were thrown open, the warning tap of the 
chamberlain’s staff resounded through the room, and Prince 
and Princess Dagobert appeared upon the threshold. 
Every one present bowed almost to the earth, the bald 
heads of the elderly courtiers bending as suddenly and as 
profoundly as when a tempest sweeps over a field of waving 
grain, and Ferra awaited with wondering and admiring 
eyes the approach of the royal cortege. 

In this long, magnificent room, with its walls composed 
almost entirely of immense mirrors, its elaborate decora- 
tions of white and gold, and rich draperies of white and 
gold brocade. Prince Dagobert had certainly allowed his 
love of splendor full play. Three superb chandeliers of 
Venetian glass hung from the ceiling, and were reflected 
again and again in the mirrors that lined the walls. The 
gallery where the musicians were stationed consisted 
entirely of richly gilded fretwork, and each corner of the 
apartment was filled with rich masses of scarlet azaleas. 

Ferra’s heart throbbed high as she cast a hasty glance at 
all this splendor. This was indeed the world in which she 
had always longed to live. 

The young princess was still a little dazzled by the splen- 
dor of the spacious hall, or she would have perceived that 
the toilets of the ladies around her were rather old-fash- 
ioned and not remarkably tasteful, and that every eye was 
directed upon her with evident curiosity as soon as their 
royal highnesses had passed. 

His excellency. Count Neukirch, positively "opened his 
usually half-closed orbs to their widest extent, and touched 
his next neighbor lightly on the arm. 


64 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Zounds! who would have supposed that the Bogdanoff 
had such a cousin as that?” he whispers, softly, 

“Another tid-bit for the prince,” he adds, in his secret 
heart, for, ex-governor though he is, he is Prince Dagobert’s 
ally and confidant, and governs himself accordingly. The 
brother olhcial beside him nods his gray head assenting!}’, 
with a low, meaning laugh. 

Prince Dagobert, though not handsome, is a remarkably 
fine specimen of stalwart, chivalrous manhood, but even the 
most casual observer can see that he has led a fast life. 
The deep lines about his mouth and eyes are convincing 
proof of that, for he is not yet forty; but his large gray 
eyes are still bright and clear, his expression remarkably 
genial, and all his movements quick and graceful. He 
holds his own admirably, even when compared with his tall, 
handsome, but much colder and more reserved adjutant, 
who is a step or two behind his royal master. Both men 
wear the infantry uniform, Rommingen’s decorated with 
the gold cord of an adjutant, while the breast of the prince 
glitters with stars and orders. 

Princess Sibylle is considerably above medium height, 
but frightfully thin and angular. Her complexion is sallow 
and muddy even by gaslight, and her hair and eyes are of 
an uncertain hue. In short, she is one of the few unfort- 
unate women to whom nature has denied all power of 
pleasing, and it was doubtless her consciousness of this 
fact — for she was remarkably shrewd and intelligent in 
spite of her many weaknesses and foibles — that had caused 
her to insist upon such a strict, almost Puritanical simplicity 
at her court, and to select for her ladies-in-waiting women 
whose personal attractions did not excel her own. 

Sharp-tongued critics had dubbed the wing of the palace 
occupied by the princess and her attendant ladies as 
“ Scarecrow Row,” and Neukirch stoutly declared that this 
not altogether inappropriate appellation had originated with 
Frau von Bogdanoff. 

While the princess waged a relentless warfare upon 
everything beautiful and elegant, the prince was untiring 
in his pursuit of pleasure, and certainly gave his spouse 
good cause for jealousy. Indeed, it was a well-known 
fact that an exceedingly pretty and popular singer had 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


05 


recently lost her place at the Court Theater on account of 
Prince Dagobert’s too ardent admiration. 

D was a great place for scandal, consequently there 

were but few people present who did not await the presen- 
tation of this new beauty with intense interest. 

On a nearer view, Ferra was greatly disappointed in her 
royal highness and her ladies-in- waiting. The princess 
herself, in a gown of yellow brocade, with her hair drawn 
tightly back from her face, looked painfully ugly. Nothing 
could have induced Ferra to show herself in such a garb. 
She cast a furtive glance at her own charming reflection 
in the mirror, and felt well pleased with herself. 

Rommingen would certainly form a better opinion of 
her to-day. She was watching for him so eagerly that she 
quite failed to notice the expression of intense astonish- 
ment and admiration in Prince Dagobert’s eyes as they 
rested upon her. Detlef, too, saw and recognized her at 
the same instant. He believed for a moment though that 
his eyes must have deceived him. He had felt sure that it 
was a lady he had protected the evening before, but he had 
not expected to meet her again so soon and at court, 
and his astonishment was so apparent that a mischievous 
smile flitted over Ferra’s lips as her eyes met his. 

“The Princess Arbanoff solicits the honor of a presen- 
tation through her cousin, Frau von Bogdanoff,” said the 
marshal; and the latter lady’s tiny form almost vanished 
from sight in the rich folds of her purple velvet gown, an 
example which Ferra promptly followed. 

'Fhe Princess Sibylle took fright at once as she noted 
the marvelous beauty of the stranger bowing low before 
her. Something told her then and there that this beautiful 
Russian was sure to prove a dangerous rival, but it was in 
a courteous, though slightly formal, manner that she said: 

“ You have given us a very pleasant surprise, my dear 
Frau von Bogdanoff. I was not aware that there were 
any young people in your family, but I am glad to see that 
your days of loneliness are ended. Do you contemplate 
remaining here some time. Princess?” 

“ I am unable to say as yet, your Highness. I am rather 
averse to hasty decisions.” 

Maria Paulowna noted the effect of this reply with much 

6 


66 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARTS. 


inward satisfaction. She knew the face of the princess 
well enough to read her thoughts, and understand how glad 
she would be to learn that the fair stranger’s sojourn was 
likely to be of short duration. 

“As we have been fortunate enough to keep you here, 
madame, may we not hope that your beautiful cousin can 
be persuaded not to act the part of a bird of passage,” 
interposed the prince. “ Birds of passage bring summer, 
but leave grim winter behind them. Am I not right, 
Princess? ” 

Ferra smiled. She was not sorry to have Rommingen 
hear the prince’s gallant remark. 

“ I can hardly flatter myself to that extent, for I came 
with snow and ice,” she replied, lightly. 

“ But a glance from your eyes will melt them.” 

The princess compressed her lips slightly and walked on. 

“ Is the prince in the habit of making such very flatter- 
ing remarks?” asked Ferra, blushing slightly. 

“ When he meets any one he admires, evidently. You 
will doubtless have an opportunity to judge for yourself.” 

The distinguished company had watched this little 
episode with breathless interest. 

“He admires her very much, evidently,” whispered one 
bystander to a friend; “and the princess may as well make 
the best of it.” 

“She is certainly very charming,” muttered the men. 

“ What a superb dress, and what magnificent diamonds! ” 
whispered the ladies, enviously. “ Still, it is not always 
safe to judge by outward appearances.” 

Just then the signal for dancing to begin was given by 
the chamberlain, and as Prince Dagobert liked to play the 
genial host and amuse himself among his guests, the rigid 
laws of court etiquette were set aside temporarily. 

“Ah, there is Neukirch. I must speak to him. Will 
you excuse me for one moment, Sibylle! ” 

As he spoke, he sprang down the steps of the dais, and 
in another second was making his way through the crowd. 

The princess compressed her lips a little more closely. 
She knew her husband would not rejoin her for an hour or 
more, but she could manage to keep a pretty close watch 
on him for all that. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


67 


She saw him bestow a careless wave of the hand to this 
guest and a whispered compliment on that one, then tap 
some high dignitary gaily on the shoulder as he made his 
way toward the spot where Neukirch was standing. 

“At last! ” sighed his highness, as he gained his friend’s 
side; “I thought I should never reach you. What is the 
matter? Why don’t you tell me what you think of her?” 

“I haven’t recovered from my astonishment yet, your 
Highness.” 

“No prevarication, now. Didn’t you really know any- 
thing about her? ” 

“ Nothing whatever, upon my honor! ” responded his 
excellency, pressing his hand on his dazzling shirt front. 
Though he kept his years a profound secret, he fought 
against old age as valiantly as any fashionable belle. If 
he had been born a king, his valet would have been prime 
minister. 

“His evil genius,” muttered the princess, with a frown, 
as she watched the pair from her elevated position. “If I 
but had the power to crush that serpent it would be better 
for all of us.” 

“ A great acquisition, isn’t she? ” whispered Prince 
Dagobert, dragging his confidant into a neighboring 
window niche. “ Marvelously beautiful, of unassailable 
social position, and what chic! ” He kissed the tips of his 
fingers airily. 

“ Yes, she possesses in an eminent degree that je 7ie sais 
quoi that far excels beauty in my estimation,” he continued. 

“The princess is endowed with both, fortunately,” and a 
satyr-like smile wreathed the old fop’s lips. 

“Unfortunately, you mean. I must confess that I have 
a special weakness for beautiful women,” answered the 
prince. “It is so delightful to gaze into a woman’s spark- 
ling eyes and watch her blushes come and go. But non- 
sense; what is the use of telling you that. You know me 
well enough without.” 

“ And am always ready to serve you, your Highness.” 

“ We will see about that later. We shall have to be on 
our good behavior for a while. That affair with the Som- 
merfeld has been noised about, and the princess will keep 
a closer watch on me than ever.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“Consequently I have promised myself the pleasure of 
engrossintr that honored lady’s attention fora while.” 

“ Thanks. Frau von Bogdanoff is a particular friend of ^ 
yours, I believe, so I’ll return the compliment by having a 
little chat with her. Her fair companion reminds me of 
a (lueenly swan.” 

“A swan among geese,” thought Neukirch, with a con- 
temptuous glance at the ladies around him. True, there 
were youthful and even beautiful faces in plenty, but 
Princess Sibylle’s preference for simple attire was too well 
known for the ladies of her court to venture on any extrav- 
agance. 

While the prince was furtively making his way toward 
the fair lady who had so captivated his fancy, the army offi- 
cers, young and old, as well as all the members of the 
diplomatic corps, were crowding around the beautiful 
stranger. Title after title and name after name resounded 
in Ferra’s ears only to be instantly forgotten, but she had 
such a beaming smile for each and every one, and such a 
pleasant word — though it was uttered with a quaint foreign 
accent — that she won all hearts. 

Indeed, the only person of prominence who had not 
already paid homage to her charms was the prince’s adju- 
tant, but Ferra flattered herself that his subjugation was 
merely a question of time, as he was still on the dais 
engaged in conversation with Princess Sibylle. 

“ Perhaps he is as impatient to laugh wdth me over our 
last evening’s adventure as I am,” she said to herself, with 
a quick glance to satisfy herself that Rommingen was still 
at his post. 

“Have you a dance to bestow on your devoted admirer, 
princess?” asked Prince Dagobert. 

Ferra glanced half-inquiringly, half-imploringly at her 
cousin. She knew that her engagement card was full, but 
her woman’s instinct told her that such a request, coming 
from the prince, could not be refused 

A slight nod from Frau von Bogdanoff, a step forward, 
and the prince’s arm was around Ferra’s supple waist and 
she was circling around among the waltzers. 

The prince was a superb dancer, and the beautiful woman 
he held in his arms seemed to incite him to surpass himself. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Gl) 

“ Thanks, your Highness,” said Terra, stopping to take 
breath, without noticing that she had paused at the oppo- 
site end of the room from where her cousin was sitting; 
but the prince drew his fair partner’s hand through his 
arm, and said: 

“Let me take you into the next room. Princess? It is 
much cooler there, and you are very warm.” 

She assented very willingly, not suspecting for an instant 
that hundreds of eyes were eagerly watching them as she 
and her escort disappeared behind the white and gold por- 
tiere. It was a future king upon whose arm she was lean- 
ing, but the sort of halo which surrounds the rulers of the 
earth, and wdiich had so dazzled her at first, had vanished. 
His compliments were exactly like those of other men; she 
felt, too, that she was an exceedingly beautiful and attract- 
ive woman in his eyes, and the knowledge gave her a com- 
fortable feeling of superiority. 

“Just my accursed luck!” growled a slender young lieu- 
tenant of hussars to a comrade, stamping his foot angrily 
as he gazed after the pair. “ The princess promised me 
this dance.” 

His companion, a tall, rawboned man, with a thin, pale, 
fox-like face, glanced down at his friend sarcastically. 

“ Haven't you learned yet, Baron, that there are times 
when one must meekly say, ‘After you, my lord.’” 

Baron Eustace von Deuren’s youthful face flushed with 
anger. 

“I shall never learn that, my friend,” he retorted, scorn- 
fully. “ It seems to me that the proverb ‘ noblesse oblige ’ 
is far preferable. Some persons understand it and some do 
not,” and turning on his heel he stalked wrathfully away. 

Meanwhile, Prince Dagobert had led his fair partner, first 
through the Gobelin room, hung with costly tapestries, and 
then into the conservatory. If he did this in the hope of 
securing a few moments alone with the princess, he was 
disappointed, for several other couples were already prome- 
nading the walks among beautiful statues and splashing 
fountains, illumined by the magical splendor of electric 
lights. 

Brought into such close proximity with the fair stranger, 
he realized now for the first time how wonderfully beauti- 


70 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


ful she really was, and the diamonds glittered on the snow- 
white throat, which was more freely disclosed to view than 

was customary at the court of D . Her breath came 

quick and fast after her recent exertions as she leaned 
heavily upon his arm. A surpassingly lovely and fascinat- 
ing woman she was, created to be loved and adored. She 
felt his admiring gaze, and as she glanced up at him a deep 
flush overspread her face even to the tips of her little ears. 

“ Shall we sit down and rest a moment, your Highness? ” 
she inquired, evidently a little embarrassed. 

“With pleasure. Here is a delightful seat, the very 
place for loving whispers, impassioned looks, and tender 
caresses. Will you take it, princess? ” 

“Certainly; but without any of the adjuncts you men- 
tion,” she answered, with a gay laugh. 

“ And why? Surely the one thing that makes life worth 
the living is love.” 

He took her ostrich-feather fan, and waved it gently to 
and fro as he waited to see the effect of his words. If she 
blushed, he might consider it a sign that his words had 
fallen upon fertile soil. She did not blush this time, how- 
ever, but said with a faint sigh, though without the slight- 
est apparent embarrassment: 

“Yes, the same thought has often occurred to me since 
my husband died. In fact, I was so lonely and wretched 
at home that I was only too glad to accept Maria Pau- 
lowna’s invitation and come here.” 

“ It is almost too soon, I fear, to ask if you are pleased 
with the change.” 

“Oh, very much. Everyone seems exceedingly kind.” 

“ So far as men are concerned, they will be only too glad 
to lay their homage at your feet, my lady,” responded the 
prince, gallantly. “Behold in me, too, one who would 
gladly become your abject slave.” 

Ferra laughed merrily. 

“I should prefer not to put you to the test, your High- 
ness,” she replied, in her quaint foreign German. 

Prince Dagobert could not decide whether this beautiful 
stranger was an arrant coquette or the most naive and art- 
less of women; but in either case, she was certainly very 
charming. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


n 


They talked on, and to his profound astonishment the 
prince soon learned that Prince Arbanoff had been an old 
man, and that his young and charming widow still cher- 
ished his memory gratefully, even tenderly. 

“ But life is short. Princess,” he remarked, gazing down 
earnestly, almost sadly into the large, clear, wonderfully lus- 
trous green eyes; “ and one should improve all one’s 
opportunities for enjoyment, for when old age comes, and 
the hair is gray and the sight dim, one must renounce all 
the pleasures of life, and live only in the memory of past 
felicity.” 

“ I will bear your sage advice in mind, your Highness,” 
and the same bright, mischievous smile that had won 
Prince Constantine’s heart curved her red lips; but the 
eyes that met Prince Dagobert’s were as clear as crystal. 

“ If I could only be your teacher,” he murmured, 
softly. 

He had drawn so close to her that she could feel his 
breath on her cheek, and he kept his face partially con- 
cealed from view by the open fan he still held. Ferra 
experienced a sudden sensation of annoyance, and hastily 
drew back into the corner of the rustic seat. 

“There is the princess,” she remarked, hastily, perceiv- 
ing at the same instant a tall form arrayed in yellow 
brocade, leaning on the adjutant’s arm in the doorway. 

Closing the fan with one quick movement of his hand, 
the prince returned it to its owner with a gallant bow. 

“ So you, too, found the heat intolerable, Sibylle?” he 
remarked, carelessly, rising and advancing toward his wife. 
“It is delightfully cool here. The poor princess needed a 
little rest after our exertions in that fiery furnace.” 

“ And you are always so inclined to act the part of a 
good Samaritan.” There was an expression of scorn about 
the speaker’s lips which did not vanish as she added: “I 
am sorry to interrupt your charitable work, but you must 
remember that we have duties, Dagobert.” 

“Change partners!” cried the prince, gaily, offering his 
arm to his wife, with an exaggerated show of deference, 
while Rommingen stepped to Ferra’s side. “^?// wieder- 
sehen, inadame.” 

“No scenes here, I beg of you, Sibylle,” he added. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


imperiously, though in subdued tones, as they moved 
away. 

"Idle princess glanced at him contemptuously. “ I leave 
you to your own conscience, and the verdict of the world,” 
she replied, haughtily. 

“That is very kind of you, I am sure; but think a 
moment; the Princess Arbanoff is a stranger here, and our 
guest; surely, you ought to show her a little courtesy.” 

“Judging from the assurance of her manner and the 
loudness of her attire she requires no encouragement to 
make her feel perfectly at home,” was the caustic response. 

“ But will you not say a few friendly words to her? ” 
insisted the prince. 

She deigned him no reply, but after keeping time for a 
moment with her fan on her open palm to the strains of 
music that floated in from the ball-room, turned coldly 
away. 


CHAPT ER XI. 

“ Would you like to return to the ball-room. Princess?” 

It was Rommingen that spoke. 

Ferra shook her head. “No; it is so much pleasanter 
here. I would prefer to remain a little longer,” she 
answered, with a smile. 

Another dance had begun, and though a hasty glance 
showed her that the conservatory was almost deserted, the 
fact pleased rather than annoyed her. The gloved hand 
that held her fan hung loosely at her side; the long train 
of her robe formed a mass of billowy sheen at her feet, 
and the rich green foliage of the tropical plants made a 
most effective background for her marvelous beauty, as 
she stood gazing up at her companion expectantly, as if 
saying: 

“Why do you not speak? I am waiting.’ 

Rommingen would hardly have been a man had he been 
insensible to the marvelous charm that emanated from this 
woman, but he did not succumb to it without a struggle. 
Outward beauty alone, however powerful, could not sub- 
jugate him. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


73 


“ Well?” she asked, at last, a little impatieiuly. 

1 he least shadow of a smile flitted over Rommingen’s 
lips. He knew perfectly well what she was waiting for, 
but he had no intention of yielding so quickly. 

“I can not help reproaching myself for my selfishness 
in robbing some one of the pleasure of dancing with you. 
Princess,” he remarked, politely but gravely. 

“ I am a little tired, and feel no desire to dance just now; 
but — but that was hardly what I expected you to say, 
Count.” 

She seated herself as she spoke, and glanced up at him 
reproachfully, as she added: 

“ Is it possible that you do not recognize me?” 

“ Recognize you? Why, of course 1 recognize you, but 
I remember my promise.” 

“ There is no necessity of taking it quite so seriously. I 
had no idea of who you were when I exacted it, and was 
naturally anxious to guard against any misapprehension. 
There is no danger of that now we have met here. Were 
you not greatly surprised to see me?” 

“Astounded, Princess.” d'he words were uttered with 
some hesitation, and as he spoke he broke a twig from a 
plant beside him, and slowly twirled it between his fingers. 

“ Do you still think I was guilty of such an unpardon- 
able crime? 1 do so hate to be always asking if this or 
that thing is permissible. Why may not the Princess 
Arbanoff do just once what any tradesman’s daughter can 
do without a word of criticism?” 

“Por the very reason that she is the Princess Arbanoff, 
I should say.” 

“ But it is so tiresome to be always thinking of that.” 

“ Decorum, doubtless, forbids many things that are 
extremely amusing, but its mandates must be obeyed, 
nevertheless.” 

“I for one refuse to be its slave,” responded Ferra, half- 
laughingly, half-defiantly. “What person in this whole 
world has any right to take me to task?” 

“ Your own sense of right will, I am sure, prove an 
incorruptible judge.” 

She looked thoughtful. The conversation had certainly 
taken a very unexpected turn, 


74 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Promise never to say a single word to any one about 
our evening meeting,” she said, at last. “I am beginning 
to look at the matter as you do, and to blame myself very 
severely for my imprudence.” 

‘‘ I am glad to hear you say so, madame; very glad.” 

“Ah! you are disposed to exult over me a little, I see.” 

“By no means, madame. I assure you my only feeling 
is one of relief that you are not likely to be guilty of a 
similar imprudence hereafter.” 

“I shall have no more adventures on the street, I 
promise you.” 

She had risen again and stood gazing up at him with an 
arch smile upon her lips. 

“On the street,” he repeated, half-questioningly. “Yes, 
but the dangers that threaten one are by no means confined 
to the street. In fact, they are slight in comparison with 
those that lie in wait for one on the polished floor of a ball- 
room.” 

“You mean — ” 

“Nothing, if you choose to take it so; but if you are 
disposed to listen to a word of advice, much, and indeed, 
everything, your Highness.” 

She laid her hand on his arm without uttering a word, 
and they walked slowly along the broad gravel path side 
by side. All Ferra’s levity had suddenly vanished. She 
knew that her companion must be thoroughly conversant 
with all the perils of court life, but Rommingen found it 
very difficult to put his thoughts into words. 

“Jealousy, envy, and slander prevail everywhere,” he at 
last remarked, cautiously, “ more especially at a court, and 
from them arises a miasma that is dangerous even to the 
soundest lungs.” 

“What of that?” retorted his fair companion, a trifle 
impatiently. “I am not easily frightened.” 

Frau von Bogdanoff had not failed to notice her cousin’s 
disappearance, but it caused her no anxiety. Shortly after 
Ferra vanished, the little Russian saw Neukirch making 
his way toward her. As he drew nearer he shook his 
finger threateningly at her. 

“ I would never have believed it of you! ” he exclaimed, 
reproachfully. “ I am wounded to the heart.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


75 


‘‘ What do you mean?” 

“You have treated your devoted friend no better than 
you would have treated any stranger, though you know 
that my heart beats only for you, Maria Paulowna.” 

“ Don’t talk to me of such a purely imaginary thing as 
your heart.” 

“Wicked scoffer! You kept your secret well, and of 
course his highness instantly succumbed. I can’t say 
that I wonder at it in this case, however. But how about 
the poor princess?” 

“Oh, you hyprocrite! ” 

And Frau von Bogdanoff dealt him a laughing blow with 
her costly mother-of-pearl fan. 

“Yes, it is the old story of opposite poles, I think,” she 
continued. “ But why do you ask me about the princess?” 

“Because a woman’s ears are sharp, madame; especially 
in case of any triumph over her own sex.” 

The little Russian laughed. “ But, unfortunately, I can 
claim no credit for my cousin’s beauty,” she answered, 
gaily. 

“We understand each other, I think, my dear friend. 
Yes, there is no doubt that we understand each other per- 
fectly.” 

“ Yes, and so we shall until one of us is deceived by the 
other, and I certainly don’t intend to be the one,” she 
reflected, with no little amusement. 

The tall, angular lieutenant, who had held the brief con- 
versation with the handsome hussar a few moments before, 
sauntered around until he saw the princess pass into the 
adjoining room leaning on Rommingen’s arm, and until 
one of her ladies-in-waiting, thus temporarily released from 
duty, had begun to chat with her acquaintances; then he 
pushed his way rather roughly through the crowd until he 
reached her side. 

“ Good evening, Amanda,” he said, half-sullenly. 

“What an impertinent, awkward upstart Nobbe is!” 
growled a comrade, upon whose toes he had just trodden, 
and to whom he had thrown only a passing word of apology. 
“He thinks himself privileged to do anything because his 
sister wields such an unaccountable influence over the 
princess.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ But that is liable to cease at any moment.” 

“I don’t agree with you, but it makes no difference to 
me; I must say, however, that Nobbe’s manner has been so 
very offensive of late, that 1 feel strongly inclined to call 
him to account.” 

“ Come, come, gentlemen, don’t let us have any war talk 
in these peaceful times; but if you can’t repress your 
belligerent longings, devote your attention to the storming 
of that fortress,” interposed an elderly officer who had 
overheard the conversation, and who pointed, as lie spoke, 
to a group of girls and young married ladies near by. 

The maid-of-honor had turned on hearing herself thus 
addressed. 

“ So it is you, Erdmann; I had time for only a word with 
you before. How are you? ” 

“ I’m in a pretty plight, as you may suppose.” 

He offered his sister his arm, and she took it with a feel- 
ing of intense pride. All the affection of which her shriv- 
eled-up heart was capable was divided between her 
brother and the princess, the former receiving quite the 
lion’s share by reason of the constant anxiety he caused 
her, and the fact that she regarded him as the most prom- 
ising representative of their family. 

But it was with an expression of evident anxiety on her 
features that she looked at him, and said: 

“What! again, already, Erdmann! ” 

“ Already !” he retorted sullenly. “You women have a 
very poor conception of the continual demands upon a 
man’s purse. Can’t we find some place where we can sit down? 
Suppose we follow the example of the prince and his fair 
partner? Aha! the princess soon ferreted him out, 
though.” 

“ Hush! ” whispered Fraiilein von Nobbe, with a timid 
glance around her. “ Come into the Gobelin room; we can 
rest a while there.” 

Erdmann von Nobbe threw himself into a big arm-chair, 
stretched out his legs, and yawned. 

“Can I have a talk with you to-morrow, Amanda, and 
where? ” he asked. 

“Good heavens! you are not going to ask me for more 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


77 


money, I hope,” and the maid-of-honor compressed her 
thin lips, the only sign of anger she ever displayed. 

“Yes, I am. You wish me to marry a rich wife, and I 
must keep up appearances in order to do that; besides, you 
really can not spend more than half of your salary, living, 
with the princess almost all the time as you do.” 

“On the contrary, 1 couldn’t possibly live on it if I had 
to pay for anything besides my clothes,” she answered, 
sighing, “and your demands far exceed my income from 
other sources. 

“ But you forget that it is through me you hear all the 
town gossip, and that it was I who brought the Sommer- 
feld affair to a climax. You certainly ought to pay me 
something handsome for that. As for your clothes, you 
had better not expend much money on them; they don’t 
improve you much. Dress the Arbanoff in rags, and she 
would still outshine a queen,” he added, with a scornful 
laugh, 

“Tastes differ,” retorted his sister, spitefully. “Besides, 
if you persist in acting as imprudently as you have this 
evening, Erdmann, you will certainly come to grief.” 

“ You would like me to keep a watchful eye on the Bog- 
danoff mansion, I suspect? ” he asked, ignoring the reproof. 

“As much as you can, of course; but the person in 
question now, is a princess; a very different person from a 
stage queen, you must understand.” 

“ It is all the same, so far as the prince is concerned. He 
is certain to play the lover, and you women are all such 
accursed hypocrites! ” 

“ Shame on you! ” cried his sister, indignantly; then she 
suddenly sprang to her feet, for the prince and princess 
were entering the room. The tall lieutenant bowed him- 
self nearly to the earth in his homage. 

“ What a devoted brother! ” said the princess, graciously. 
“Such affection between relatives is really refreshing in 
these degenerate days.” 

The ball was drawing to a close. 

Prince Dagobert had succeeded in securing another brief 
chat with Ferra. After leaving her, he remarked to Frau 
von Bogdanoff, with a sigh: 

“ Your cousin is a very dangerous creature, madame. It 


78 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


is evident that you have resolved to sliow my sex no 
mercy.” 

“ It is never worth while to show men any mercy, your 
Highness,” was the quick retort. 

“ I think you ought to be well satisfied with the impres- 
sion you created,” remarked Maria Paulowna, as the two 
ladies drove out of the court-yard in their luxurious coup4. 

‘‘ I am, my dear Pussy. It was certainly very kind of 
you to invite me here.” 

“ Amuse yourself all you can. You are absolutely free, 
and your own mistress; but never compromise yourself, for 
in that case I should be obliged to disown you forthwith, 
though I am no prude.” 

“ Why, how could I! ” was the naive answer. 

In the dimly lighted hall, where a drowsy footman was 
awaiting his mistress’ return, Ferra paused a moment. 

“ He scarcely came near me the entire evening. You 
know whom I mean. Pussy,” she remarked, as if in conclu- 
sion of a previous train of thought. 

“ He is not particularly partial to the atmosphere that 
environs us,” responded Frau von Bogdanoff, carelessly. 

“ What atmosphere? ” 

“ There is too much cigarette smoke, and too little con- 
ventionality to suit him; too much freedom and too lit- 
tle — ” She tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. “ I’m tired, 
Ferra. Good-night; I’ll tell you some other time.” 

The Princess Arbanoff sat for a long time deeply 
engrossed in thought, trying in vain to discover why she 
had so manifestly failed to gain Rommingen’s admiration. 

The principal club in D , composed almost entirely of 

members of the aristocracy and army officers, had very 
commodious and elegantly furnished quarters, which were 
a favorite resort with all the young men. Prince Dagobert 
had been a frequent visitor prior to his marriage, and 
though he was rarely seen there now, the free and easy code 
of manners which he had introduced still prevailed. Every 
member felt that he had only gentlemen to deal with, and 
consequently that it was not necessary for him to weigh his 
every word. 

Ever since the court had been divided into two fac- 
tions, a similar division had been apparent at the club. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


79 


The prince’s coterie was much the larger of the two, and 
generally assembled in the front rooms, while Erdmann 
von Nobbe, who was regarded as the leading representa- 
tive of the princess’ party, had only a small number of 
adherents, although this may have been due at least in part 
to his personal unpopularity. 

The night after the ball Nobbe’s followers were seated 
around a table, sipping their punch, when Nobbe, suddenly 
turning to his neighbor, exclaimed: 

“What’s the matter with you to-night, Laudin? Are you 
sick, or is it your debts that are worrying you? I must 
say I don’t know of anything else that has the power to 
give me the ‘blues.’ 1 hope there’s nothing the matter 
with the portrait. That would, indeed, prove a serious 
calamity.” 

The gentleman addressed was Laudin, a famous artist, 
who was just then engaged in painting the Princess Sibylle’s 
portrait. 

“ On the contrary, I am perfectly satisfied with my 
progress.” 

“ Then what the deuce gives you that hang-dog look. Can 
it be that you’ve lost your heart to the Arbanoff? That 
would explain your despondent mien.” 

And Nobbe, laughing, drained his glass in the twinkling 
of an eye and rapped on the table for a second. 

“ Come, Laudin,” exclaimed another of the young swells, 
“confess that you, too, have fallen a victim to the fair Rus- 
sian’s charms. Did you ever see such magnificent hair as 
she has? Could you put that color on canvas? ” 

“I am not sure but I must acknowledge that all my 
attempts have proved miserable failures thus far,” 
responded Laudin, with a sigh, “and this may have been the 
cause of the apparent melancholy to which Herr von 
Nobbe has so delicately called your attention, for, to tell 
the truth, I was thinking of my Helen.” 

“ Your Helen! That sounds very mysterious! I fail to 
see the connection! ” were exclamations that resounded on 
every side. 

“Yes, tell us all about it,” urged Nobbe. “There is 
nothing I so love as a good story.” 


80 


THE FLOWER GIRL C)F PARIS. 


“ Oh, this is no story, but merely a hope blighted — a 
cherished illusion destroyed.” 

“ Nonsense! it is Helen we want to hear about. What 
of her?” 

Laudin passed his hand through his long fair hair. He 
perceived that every eye was riveted upon him, and that 
escape had become an impossibility, so fixing his deep-set 
blue eyes again upon the members, he slowly told his 
story, hesitating now and then as if he were endeavoring 
to recall some dim memory. 

“ It was in Paris, at the Grand Opera House,” he began. 
“ I had been hard at work all day on a sketch for a picture, 
‘The Seizure of Helen.’ I felt satisfied it would bring me 
both fame and gold if I could but find the right model, 
but I knew of none beautiful enough to serve my purpose. 
I was sitting in the gallery looking down on the audience, 
when my eyes suddenly fell upon a face 1 shall never for- 
get. A young, bewilderingly beautiful woman — my 
Helen — was sitting alone in one of the most conspicuous 
boxes. She was dressed very plainly in comparison with 
the other ladies present, but a handsome diamond star 
sparkled in the rich masses of her red-gold hair. I stared 
at her until my sight began to fail me, then rushed down 
and questioned everybody I knew, but no one could tell 
me anything about the beautiful stranger.” 

“One of the demi-monde, of course,” said Nobbe, with a 
yawn. “ I certainly expected something better from you, 
Laudin.” 

But the artist paid no heed to the interruption. He had 
become too deeply engrossed in his subject. 

“I rushed home, and mixed colors until my head swam 
and my eyes smarted, trying to reproduce the color of the 
hair; but all in vain,” he continued. “I failed ignomini- 
ously, and to-day ” — he made the admission with a melan- 
choly smile and sigh — “ my picture is still unfinished, and 
fame and fortune still unwon. My Helen has proved faith- 
less. But to-night, when the Princess Arbanoff entered 
the ball-room, my brain fairly reeled. There was the hair 
of which I had so long dreamed, and again I beheld, as in 
a vision, behind her head, the purple hangings of the box 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


81 


against which her pure cameo-like profile stood out so 
admirably. The resemblance was truly astonishing,” 

Nobbe had straightened himself up in his chair, and now, 
fixing his glass in his eye, asked carelessly: 

“ And did you never ascertain who your ideal was?” 

“ The box-opener merely shrugged her shoulders and 
smiled meaningly when 1 plied her with questions. The 
box belonged to some rich aristocrat, a Hungarian or 
Pole, I believe; the lady— well, she held certain relations 
with him, but she was not his wife.” 

“Very delicately expressed. And this lady strikingly 
resembled the Princess Arbanoff, you say? ” 

“ Unquestionably. The resemblance is really marvelous.” 

“ I would advise you, my dear Laudin, to be a little more 
careful about your reminiscences; if you don’t, you’ll be 
sure to get yourself into a devil of a scrape. That sallow 
little Bogdanolf is a Tartar, and she’ll make you rue it if 
she hears you are circulating such reports about her 
relative.” 

“But I assure you that I have said nothing against that 
lady, Herr von Nobbe,” said the artist, greatly surprised 
and shocked. “ You gentlemen will certainly bear witness 
that I merely alluded to a striking resemblance, such as is 
very frequent. How could I suppose that any one would 
fancy for an instant that there was the slightest connection 
between the two ladies.” 

“You don't, my dear fellow, but I do,” thought Nobbe, 
complacently; then he added, aloud: 

“ My words were merely intended as a timely warning. 
Of course no one here would ever think of your story again, 
much less repeat it; but a like indiscretion elsewhere, 
might.” 

“ I shall take good care never to speak of the matter 
again,” interru{)ted Laudin, “ if there is any possibility of 
my words being so misconstrued. I am truly grateful for 
your warning. I never dreamed for an instant that any 
one would see any harm in what I said.” 

“You have reason to congratulate yourself that Leroy 
is not here. He would not allow such an opportunity to 
ingratiate himself with Frau von Bogdanoff to pass unim- 
proved, I can tell you.” 

b 


82 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ But, good heavens — 

“Yes, yes, I know,” interrupted Nobbe, half-confiden- 
tially, half-condescendingly, and the conversation took a 
different turn. Several gentlemen seated themselves at 
the card-table and others went to the billiard-room, but 
Laudin remained pensive in his chair before the fire. He 
was thinking of his Helen. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A thin coating of dazzling white snow covered the 
castle court-yard. The Tritons, as well as old Father 
Neptune, from whose trident the water spouted in summer, 
had little white caps on their heads when Detlef von 
Rommingen walked to the window of Prince Dagobert’s 
antechamber, and gazed out upon the statues half veiled 
in snow, and the sparrows flitting about them. 

His highness intended to take a drive, and had ordered 
his adjutant to accompany him, so Detlef was now await- 
ing the arrival of the light phaeton the prince generally 
used on such occasions. Rommingen himself was ready. 
The lackey in attendance had just helped him on with his 
overcoat, and placed his helmet on a table near by, and as 
Rommingen now absently thrust his hand into his pocket, 
it came in contact with a stiff paper that certainly had not 
been there when he divested himself of the garment in the 
hall a short time before. He drew it out and examined it 
carefully on both sides. It was an envelope on which his 
name, but not his address, was inscribed in a distinguished, 
running hand, and it bore no postmark. 

After an instant’s hesitation, he tore open the envelope; 
the inclosure proved to be a folded sheet of paper from 
which a crest or monogram had evidently been erased, and 
which contained these lines only: 

“There is something in the human breast, quite indepen- 
dent of the will, that urges one on with irresistible, relentless 
power; a magnetic influence that attracts one person to 
another, and binds soul to soul.” 

Detlef von Rommingen gazed at the perfumed missive 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


83 


with evident astonishment, then folded it up again and 
held it for a moment thoughtfully in his hand. Who could 
the fair writer be, for that the writer was a lady there 
could not be the slightest doubt. The paper, the hand- 
writing, and the words all proved that unmistakably. What 
inmate of the castle could have placed it in his overcoat 
without the knowledge of the servant in attendance? 
Opening the door, he called out: 

“ Brown! ” 

“ Yes, Herr Count.” 

“ Have you left the anteroom since I came in? ” 

“ No, Herr Count.” 

“ Are you sure? ” 

The dark eyes scrutinized the servant’s countenance 
closely, but not a muscle of his face moved, though a slight 
expression of astonishment was apparent in his eyes. 

“ Can it be the Herr Count misses anything! ” 

“ No. That will do.” 

He dismissed the lackey with a wave of the hand, and 
the door closed without his curiosity having been satisfied, 
for Rommingen was too unlike Neukirch and some of the 
other influential members of the court to be a favorite, 
and the servants showed a corresponding lack of zeal in 
his service; besides, under the circumstances, it would 
have been hardly prudent to announce the rather startling 
discovery he had just made. So deeming him insufferably 
arrogant and proud. Brown said to himself: 

“If I went out five minutes or so to get that book for 
Fratilein Bertha, that was my own affair, and, certainly, no 
business of his; especially as he does not seem to think it 
worth his while to tell me why he asked the question.” 

Without having gained the slightest clew to the mystery, 
Rommingen returned to the window and again gazed out 
into the court-yard; but he had not long to wait now, for the 
door of the adjoining room hastily opened and Prince 
Dagobert appeared. 

“A lovely day! We must make haste, Rommingen! ” he 
exclaimed, pleasantly. 

He Jooked unusually bright and animated. One would 
have said that he had something exceedingly pleasant in 
prospect. 


84 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


He was in citizen’s dress, but his broad collar and cuffs 
of rich sable heightened the air of distinction natural to 
him. In short, he seemed in the best of spirits as he 
sprang lightly into the phaeton, followed by Rommingen, 
and took the lines, and in another second the elegant 
equipage whirled out of the court-yard at a rapid trot. 

On these daily drives, the prince generally preferred to 
act as his own coachman, his adjutant and a young negro 
groom being his only attendants on this occasion. 

To-day, Prince Dagobert chose the shortest road to the 
park, and after a swift drive through avenues bordered 
with snow-covered trees and shrubs, he directed his course 
toward that quarter of the town where Frau von Bogdanoff 
resided, and after a minute or two brought his spirited 
horses to a sudden standstill in front of that lady’s door. 

“One moment, my dear Rommingen. I merely wish to 
ask after the ladies’ health; I will be with you again almost 
immediately.” 

He threw the lines to the groom, and a second later 
disappeared within the house. The adjutant was not a 
little surprised, but thrusting his hands in his overcoat 
pocket resigned himself to his fate, with the expectation of 
waiting, perhaps, a quarter or even half an hour. But an 
hour passed, and still the prince did not make his appearance. 

He was generally the most unexacting and amiable of 
masters; but sometimes — as on the present occasion — he 
seemed to regard the rest of mankind as having been 
created solely for his convenience, a belief by no means 
uncommon in the great of the earth. Detlef Rommingen 
began to lose his temper; but, strange to say, he felt far 
less incensed with his highness than with the beautiful 
woman whose vanity kept the prince a prisoner in her 
warm, luxurious rooms, in spite of the warning he, Rom- 
mingen, had so recently given her; and yet Ferra was really 
not to blame for the long delay. 

When the prince found Frau von Bogdanoff alone — it 
was upon that lady he had called, ostensibly — she could 
not help smiling at the disappointment so legibly imprinted 
on his face. 

“If your Highness will only have patience for a moment, 
I will have Ferra apprised of your visit,” she remarked, 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


85 


archly. Then she sent Jacqueline to notify her mistress, 
and the prince took advantage of the opportunity thus 
afforded to express to his hostess his profound admiration 
for her youthful cousin. 

“She is frightfully unconventional,” answered Maria 
Paulowna. 

“ That makes her all the more charming. Don’t try to 
change her in that respect, I beg of you. In the stifling 
atmosphere that surrounds us, a fresh, pure breeze from 
the mountains — ” 

“You are enthusiastic, your Highness,” the little Rus- 
sian interrupted, dryly; “but that is nothing unusual with 
you, 1 believe; though it is really a rather dangerous weak- 
ness, I should suppose, for a man of your age and position.” 

Prince Dagobert stared at his hostess a moment in evi- 
dent astonishment, then laughed good-humoredly. 

“You are inclined to be severe on me, I see, madame; 
but I bear you no ill-will,” he answered. 

Just then Ferra came in, fresh and blooming as a rose, 
and the prince sprang up, advanced a few steps to meet 
her, and kissed her hand. 

“ It is not necessary to inquire after your health, madame,” 
he remarked, bestowing a look of ardent admiration on her 
beautiful face. “On my way here, I reproached myself for 
intruding upon you ladies so early, but — ” 

“But you came, nevertheless,” said Frau von Bogdanoff, 
completing the sentence for him. 

“Very little persuasion is needed to induce a man to do 
what he longs to do,” answered the prince, gallantly; 
“ besides, I was desirous of securing the company of you 
ladies on a sleighing party. It has been in contemplation 
some time — my worthy Neukirch is really quite an 
inventive genius — but the snow was lacking. Now we 
have that, we must make haste and improve it. You have 
visited my little hunting-lodge before, Frau von Bogdanoff, 
and snow and ice will certainly have no terrors for the 
princess after her life on the Russian steppes; besides, cold 
is one of the best preservatives known.” 

“Possibly that is the reason you leave your poor adju- 
tant out so long,” remarked Frau von Bogdanoff, glancing 
out of the window. “ He looks nearly frozen.” 


86 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“Good heavens! I forgot all about him. You are to 
blame, ladies.” 

Ferra walked to the window, and looked out. “Why 
didn’t you send for him to come in, Pussy,’’ she asked, 
reproachfully. 

“Nonsense! Rommingen is a soldier; besides, who would 
not gladly change places with him to win such a look of 
sympathy and compassion from your beautiful eyes,” said 
Prince Dagobert, gallantly. 

“As your hostess, I am naturally anxious to please you 
both; but I fail to see how I am to do it in the present 
instance,” laughed Maria Paulowna. 

The prince shrugged his shoulders, and seeing there was 
no help for it took his leave. 

“I’ve kept you waiting an unconscionable time, I fear,” 
he remarked, apologetically, as he sprang into the phaeton 
and seized the lines. 

Rommingen’s only response was a silent bow. He felt 
strangely angry. 

Prince Dagobert turned and looked him full in the face. 

“ How do you like the Princess Arbanoff, Rommingen? 
You, too, are a man of the world and, consequently, a good 
judge.” 

“I have had no opportunity to form an opinion as yet.” 

“ Oh, that has nothing whatever to do with one’s first 
impressions. I must say that I admire her very much” 
[here he elevated his eyebrows and sighed], “but she is 
likely to have a hard time here, I fear. To attack what 
one can not attain to, is the way of the world, you know; 
besides, all the women will be against her.” 

He gave his horses a sharp cut with the whip, and knit 
his brows wrathfully; but his adjutant said never a word. 

“ I wish that some one here in the capital, whose motives 
were not likely to be misconstrued, would espouse her 
cause,” continued the prince. “Neukirch would injure 
rather than aid her if he attempted to act as her champion; 
but with you, Rommingen, it would be very different.” 

The prince, who had spoken hurriedly and without vent- 
uring another look at his companion, now paused, quite out 
of breath. 

“ In my humble opinion, your Highness, it would be much 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


87 


wiser to avoid all gossip by a prudent reserve of manner,” 
answered Rommingen, coldly. “A woman can protect her- 
self very effectually, and easily disarm all her enemies, if 
she chooses.” 

“Very well, we will let the subject drop,” the prince 
was evidently angry, “though I think it very strange that 
you so entirely fail to understand the utter helplessness of 
women in certain matters; but it is of no consequence, 
after all.” 

The prince did not recover his good-humor, and Detlef 
himself was far from comfortable in mind. “What an 
absurd waste of time it would be to endeavor to protect 
the reputation of a woman with whom the prince has 
evidently become infatuated, and who is evidently pleased 
by his attentions,” he thought, wrathfully. But at the very 
same time he was saying to himself, in his secret heart, 
“ Nevertheless, I will be on the watch and protect her as 
well as I can.” 

After Prince Dagobert’s departure, Ferra stood for a 
long time at the window, gazing out into the street. She 
was well pleased with her present life and surroundings; 
the whirling snow, the ice-covered trees, and the prospect 
of a gay sleigh-ride delighted her; but perhaps the image 
of a handsome adjutant, who was always somewhere in 
the background, had more to do with her contentment than 
she imagined. 

Quite unconsciously she began to sing softly to herself, 
keeping time the while with a slight undulating movement 
of her graceful body. The sound she made was scarcely 
louder than the chirping of a tiny bird, but Frau von 
Bogdanoff dropped her book and gazed at her cousin with 
astonished eyes. 

Voyez ce beau garQon 
Cest I'amant d'Amatide, 


sang the princess. 

“Where did you learn that song, Ferra?” asked Maria 
Paulowna, hastily. 

“ I’ve no idea. It seemed to come to me just now, but 
that is all I know of it.” 

“ Surely, Constantine never allowed you to sing such low 


88 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


songs, or visit the places where they are Heard,” remarked 
the Russian, severely. 

Ferra turned to her, evidently much surprised atid very 
curious. 

“ But my dear Pussy, I know nothing about the song. Is 
it really so very bad? Where could I have heard it? It 
must have been a long time ago, but I really can not 
remember. Where did you hear it, Pussy? ” 

“ Oh — I? That is very different.” She rolled a cigarette 
for herself with all the skill of an inveterate smoker. “ I 
like to see life in all its phases, so in company with my 
husband I visited many of the haunts of vice and poverty 
in Paris, after I became tired of studying the higher orders 
of society. That song was once the rage in all the third- 
class cafes, and once I even heard it sung by a child, a 
little girl, and it shocked me so that I could never bear to 
hear it since.” 

There was a look of abject terror in Ferra’s great shin- 
ing eyes as she turned them upon her cousin. How sud- 
denly the scales seemed to have fallen from her mental 
vision. She beheld again the dirty, dimly lighted court- 
yard, and the squalid room where the persons she called 
father and mother lived, and a I'ittle girl, herself, in the 
short spangled dress she thought so beautiful, rushing up 
to exhibit herself to her old friend Mademoiselle Desiree, 
and then out through the streets to a little cafe where men 
and women who were talking and wrangling and laughing 
pelted her with oranges and sugar-plums, while she hopped 
about like a little bird and sang — what? Ah, yes, she 
remembered it now only too well: 

Voyez ce beau gai'Qo/i 
C'est Vamant d' Amande. 

She was proud of her song in those days; now the mere 
thought of it made her shudder. For years the song had 
been forgotten; now it came forth unbidden from the 
distant past to awaken hideous memories in Maria 
Paulowna’s mind as well as her own. Perhaps she had 
been the very child to whom her cousin had alluded. But 
all this was over now', thank God! The past w'as buried, 
forgotten! She sat here young, rich, and beautiful, with 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


89 


a prince ready to do her homage, and no one had the 
slightest suspicion of the truth concerning her childhood. 

“I will never sing it again; never!” she exclaimed, 
vehemently. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Her royal highness had a headache. The numerous 
lackeys moved about the richly carpeted corridors on tiptoe, 
and the shades were closely drawn, for the court physician 
had prescribed a sleeping draught. The mistress of the 
robes was resting in her own apartments, and only Friiulein 
von Nobbe, the princess’ friend and confidante, was in 
attendance in the sick-room. 

Prince Dagobert shrugged his shoulders, and made a 
sneering remark to Neukirch on hearing of his consort’s 
indisposition. He left the castle shortly afterward in his 
old friend’s company, not without the knowledge of Fraulein 
von Nobbe, who stood behind the closely drawn curtains 
and dutifully reported to her mistress everything that 
occurred. 

Princess Sibyl le hastily arose from her half-reclining 
posture, and, pushing back the cold bandage that encircled 
her forehead, exclaimed: 

“It is outrageous, positively outrageous, Amanda! Neu- 
kirch, always Neukirch! Dagobert’s evil genius and my 
bitterest enemy! ” 

Fraulein von Nobbe nodded her ugly head in token of 
assent, though she answered, consolingly, “ Oh, no, your 
Highness has no enemies.” 

“ If you say no friends you will come nearer the truth,” 
retorted the princess, bitterly; but she quite failed to see 
that her confidante was paving the way for some unpleasant 
disclosure when she remarked, meditatively, a minute or two 
afterward : 

“Those who aspire to goodness and wage a vigorous 
warfare against evil, must always expect to have enemies, 
your Highness.” 

“If that were all, I would not complain, Amanda; but 


90 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


it is perfectly unbearable to see how diamonds, and Parisian 
toilets, and mere outward beauty can so dazzle a rnau as to 
make him utterly unmindful of right and duty. I would 
be willing to wager almost any amount that they are 
already laughing about the prince’s new infatuation at the 
club, and shrugging their shoulders over me; and I was so 
delighted to think we were at last rid of the Sommerfeld! 
Who ever would have dreamed that that sallow little Bog- 
danoff would thrust her cousin into the breach? And this 
absurd sleighing party that the prince has planned! I can’t 
possibly postpone it a second time, after doing so to-day by 
my headache. It will have to come off, and I can see Frau 
von Bogdanoff’s smile of triumph now.” 

“ Finely strung souls must not expect to find themselves 
appreciated, your Highness,” responded Fraulein von 
Nobbe, feelingly. “They can only hope and trust that the 
time will come when the eyes of the blind will be opened.” 

“ Oh, yes; if one will consent to deck one’s self out in Par4s 
gowns, dye one’s hair, and play the coquette, then, perhaps, 
but not till then; but I have no patience with such doings, 
Amanda. I detest show, and as for appearing in public in 
dresses cut as low as those the Princess Arbanoff wears — 
thank heaven, my sense of delicacy prevents that!” 

“It is shocking, positively shocking!” and Fraulein von 
Nobbe shuddered, and rubbed her long bony hands. “ This 
is a wicked world, your Highness, a very wicked world.” 

“And we can not hope to alter it,” said the princess, 
gloomily. 

“ But there is a rich reward in store for those who ear- 
nestly struggle to attain perfection,” said the maid-of- 
honor, sanctimoniously. 

“Bah! who struggles to attain perfection in these days! ” 

“ May I venture to remind your Highness that my 
brother is ready to devote himself, body and soul, to your 
Highness’ service? that he worships everything that seems 
good and noble in your eyes? that he is ever striving to 
circumvent your enemies, and to remove all annoyances 
from your Highness’ pathway? True, he is only one among 
many; but is his devotion not a proof that virtue is really 
appreciated, after all?” 

“Yes, I know that your brother is devoted to us. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


91 


Amanda,” replied the princess, but her thoughts were evi- 
dently far away. 

“Yes, God knows he is.” And the maid-of-honor laid 
her hand on her heart and rolled her eyes piously heaven- 
ward. “ I had a long conversation with him just now, 
and his intense solicitude for his royal mistress’ welfare led 
him to mention a report — ” 

“ What was it, you good creature? ” demanded the prin- 
cess, suddenly becoming interested, for she had gained a 
good deal of valuable information in this roundabout way. 

“I hardly know, your Highness; it was only a rumor — 
the merest shadow of a rumor, so to speak.” 

“You know me, Amanda. I can keep my own counsel, 
and have sufficient self-control to betray nothing. Does the 
report concern my husband? ” 

“ No, your Highness; it is in relation to — but why 
should I hesitate — it is in relation to that Russian lady, the 
Princess Arbanoff.” 

“ Indeed! ” and the princess sank back in her chair. She 
was evidently awaiting further revelations with intense 
eagerness. 

“You know, your Highness, that the gentlemen generally 
meet at the club after a ball, and it was there that Erdmann 
heard the artist Laudin say that this Princess Arbanoff 
strongly resembled a former leader of the Parisian demi- 
monde.” 

“ Impossible, my dear Nobbe! ” 

“ Erdmann, too, thought it impossible that there could be 
anything more than a chance resemblance, and strongly 
advised the artist never to refer to the subject again, as it 
might cause trouble. It is so easy to start a scandalous 
report. And now that Frau von Bogdanoff has presented 
the lady at court as her cousin’s widow, and his royal high- 
ness has shown her such distinguished consideration, the 
consequences of such a report would prove extremely 
annoying.” 

“Hm!” said the princess, thoughtfully, riveting her 
gaze on a head of Christ, in a richly ornamented frame, 
which hung over her writing-table. “ Many strange things 
happen in this world. I am always rather suspicious of 
foreigners, and especially of Russians.” 


92 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Your Highness can not possibly suspect that there is 
really anything wrong?” the maid-of-honor exclaimed, 
apparently much astonished. 

“ I do not say that, exactly; but I think it would be well 
to make some inquiries concerning this lady’s antecedents; 
I must have confidence in those around me. My immedi- 
ate circle of friends must be free from any doubtful ele- 
ment. It is my duty to insist upon this; all the more so, 
indeed, from the fact that the prince is deplorably lax in 
these matters. Besides, Mme. Arbanoff’s manners are 
extremely free, and her evident eagerness to display 
her charms certainly does not speak well for her. I am 
grateful to your brother for this timely hint. You may 
tell him so, and also that I shall consider it a favor if he 
can give me any further information on the subject. 
Degrading as it seems, we must fight with the same weapons 
that are used against us. Oh! where, where can peace and 
happiness be found! ” And the princess sank wearily back 
on her pillows and closed her eyes. 

To Princess Sibylle’s intense annoyance the weather 
continued cold, and the snow, in all its dazzling beauty, 
lingered a long time in that portion of the town not devoted 
to traffic, and on the country roads. Prince Dagobert, who 
had consented to the posponement of his sleighing party 
with perfect courtesy, though with a frowning brow, now 
hastened the preparations for it with untiring zeal, and on 
the appointed day the streets were filled with the sound of 
merry bells as the handsome sleighs dashed toward the 
castle court-yard, the place of rendezvous. 

The gentlemen in their fur-lined overcoats, and the 
ladies in their heavy, dark winter gowns, made a charming 
picture. And many a lovely damsel smiled out from 
beneath a picturesque Rembrandt hat upon the admirer 
whom fate had assigned to her as an escort, and many a 
fair one smothered a sigh when the name drawn from the 
massive antique urn did not correspond with her secret 
wishes. 

This plan for the allotment for partners had been devised 
by the prince, and he presided over the drawing himself 
with much evident enjoyment, teasing, congratulating, or 
condoling with each person, but keeping all the while a 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF FARIS. 


93 


sharp lookout for the stylish equipage owned by Frau von 
Bogdanoff. 

At last the quick tread of that lady’s Orloff steeds fell upon 
the ear. The prince heard the bells, saw the scarlet plumes 
that crowned the horses’ heads, and hastened forward to 
receive these favored guests. Ferra wore a costume of rich 
green velvet trimmed with silver fox, her wonderful hair 
gleamed like molten gold beneath her becoming velvet cap, 
and as a ray of sunshine fell on her face, lilies and roses 
seemed to vie for the mastery in her delicate cheeks. Ferra 
could not fail to note the admiration in Prince Dagobert’s 
look as his eyes fell upon her, and she would hardly have 
been a woman had she not felt a little elated by her 
conquest. 

“ So you have come at last, ladies,” he exclaimed. “ You 
must not blame me if you have but a meager choice left 
you. Princess.” 

He offered her his arm, and as he escorted her to the 
urn, he added in an undertone: 

“ Ah, why can 1 not be among the fortunate ones who 
have a chance of enjoying a few never-to-be-forgotten hours 
in your society. Truly, the man upon whom fortune 
bestows such a favor to-day, will be my debtor for life.” 

Ferra laughed gayly. 

“But if he does not please me, your Highness will 
remain my debtor for the same length of time,” she retorted, 
merrily. 

She drew a slip of paper from the urn, and as she 
unfolded it there was a sudden silence in the crowd around 
her. 

“ Detlef, Count Rommingen Erdenflueh,” she read, with 
her quaint foreign accent; and as she glanced around the 
hall in search for him, it was easy to see that she was con- 
tent with her lot. 

“ It seems that I have earned your gratitude as well,” 
remarked the prince, with a tinge of jealousy and wounded 
pride, for she seemed to have entirely forgotten him. 

“You have, indeed, your Highness.” 

The prince' turned away, with lips tightly compressed, 
and walked toward his wife, who received him with a look 
of ill-disguised scorn. 


94 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


‘‘ Are you ready, Sibylle? Shall I give the signal for 
departure? ” he asked. 

“I am quite ready, as you see.” 

The princess was even more unbecomingly dressed than 
usual. Indeed, she seemed to have resolved to convince 
those around her that the costly attire and refined elegance 
of the two Russian ladies failed to make the slightest 
impression upon her, much less to awaken any spirit of 
emulation in her breast. 

The prince noticed the fact, and secretly sighed as he 
offered his arm to conduct his wife to the sleigh. The 
mistress of the robes and her husband, together with 
Fraulein von Nobbe and her brother, took possession of the 
next sleigh; and it was a noticeable fact that never had 
the inmates of “Scarecrow Row” seemed to justify the 
appellation bestowed upon their abode so strikingly as 
to-day. 

“ Fate has again brought us together, you see,” Ferra 
remarked to Rommingen, with a bewildering smile. “ I 
trust you are inclined to be amiable to-day.” 

“ Was I ever otherwise? ” 

“ That admits of a doubt,” she responded, with a charm- 
ing pout. 

Frau von Bogdanoff had accepted a seat in Neukirch’s 
sleigh, leaving her own for Ferra and her escort. The 
body of the sleigh was shaped like a shell and richly gilded, 
and the seats and robes were of bear-skin. The driver, 
perched up behind it, looked very like a big bear, so 
entirely was he enveloped in furs, and as he dexterously 
handled the scarlet lines over the fiery Orloffs, with their 
gorgeous trappings of scarlet and gold, he added not a 
little to the splendor of the equipage. As the gay pro- 
cession dashed through the streets, Frau von Bogdanoff ’s 
sleigh and its .handsome occupants excited universal 
admiration. Almost everybody in the town knew the 
adjutant by sight, so all eyes were riveted upon Ferra. 

“ Oh, what a pretty lady! what a pretty lady! ” cried a 
little girl from the arms of her nurse, who had lifted her 
up so she could see better. “ Her head is all covered with 
gold.” 

A tiny bunch of violets, thrown by a half-grown boy, who 


THE FLOWER GIRL OP PARIS. 


96 


instantly dodged out of sight in the crowd, fell directly in 
Ferra’s lap. 

“They all unite in doing you homage,” Detlef remarked 
to his companion. “ I trust it does not annoy you.” 

“ Oh, no, I am used to it,” she replied naively. “They 
were far more demonstrative in Russia.” 

“ So you are perfectly conscious of your power, 
madame? ” 

“ I think so,” she replied, though not without a little hesi- 
tation. She was just as frank and honest in her dealings 
with others as she was with herself. 

“Then my late warning gave offense, doubtless.” 

“ Not at all. I know you meant it kindly.” 

“I did; by heaven! I did!” he said, warmly. “True, 
we men are more severe in our censure of some things than 
women are, but our judgment is all the more correct for 
that very reason, perhaps.” 

“I am sadly spoiled, I fear,” said Ferra, lightly. “My 
husband gratified my every wish and never scolded me, 
however capricious I might be. He was very good to me, 
for he loved me very much.” 

“But can you not believe that a love which was equally 
deep and true might occasionally find cause to blame, or 
at least to differ in opinion with the person beloved?” 

“ But that would be a rather objectionable feature, it 
seems to me,” laughed Ferra. 

He glanced at the beautiful face beside him, and admitted 
to himself that a man would certainly have to be the 
possessor of great moral courage to refuse its owner any- 
thing, or to persist in anything she would oppose. “ How 
weak we men are,” he thought, and for the first time in his 
life this weakness seemed not contemptible, but alarmingly 
sweet to him. 

The castle they were to visit stood on a slight eminence, 
and its towers soon became visible above the snow-crowned 
firs that surrounded it. Its multitudinous turrets and win- 
dows sparkled gayly in the bright sunlight. A light breeze 
was blowing, swaying the tree-tops gently to and fro. 
Startled by the sound of approaching music, the crows flew 
screaming from the branches, sending down great masses 
of snow that separated into millions of glittering particles 


90 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


as they fell, and in another minute the gay cortege had dis- \ 
appeared from sight beneath the arched gateway, leaving -5 
behind on the snow-covered road deep tracks, which the j 
crows and rooks scrutinized with evident curiosity and i 
distrust. 

The visitors removed their wrappings in the big hall, . 
heavily wainscoted with oak, then the doors of the adjoin- i 
ing rooms were thrown open, and the gay party streamed v 
in and took possession of the spacious apartments. In each i 
room stood a huge buffet, which was adorned with spark- 
ling silver and glass, and on which all sorts of delicious 
viands were set out, while a number of small tables were 
scattered about the room for the convenience of the guests. 

“I thought this would be the best arrangement, your 
Highness,” said Neukirch, with a meaning glance; and the 
prince pressed his hand and responded, “Admirable, 
admirable, old fellow!” 

“You lucky dog!” exclaimed Eustace von Deuren, the 
tall young officer of hussars, with a rather sulky look on his 
usually frank and pleasant face; “ if I were capable of such 
a contemptible feeling as envy, I should certainly envy you, 
Rommingen. Let us at least sit together so I can have a 
smalLshare in your good fortune.” 

“ With pleasure, my boy, provided Mme. Arbanoff has 
made no other arrangements.” 

“Are not we rulers of the earth greatly to be pitied.^” 
said Prince Dagobert to Ferra, as the latter was crossing 
the room after exchanging a few words with her cousin. 
“We are certainly unfortunate beings. We must ever be 
thinking of duty; our responsibilities hedge us in on every 
side. We must stand afar off hungering and thirsting while 
those around us drink from flowing fountains.” 

“Surely, there are so many good things here that no one 
need go hungry, your Highness,” answered Ferra, laughing, 
and pointing to the groaning buffet; “as for the fountains, 
they are all frozen just now.” And with another merry 
laugh she walked away. 

“The devil! ” thought the prince, much surprised. “She 
is either a thorough coquette or the most artless of mortals. 

At all events, she does not show me the deference to which 
1 am entitled and accustomed,” he added, greatly piqued. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


97 


It is needless to say that he kept this opinion to himself, 
however. 

A flourish of trumpets was the signal for the feast to 
begin. 

The prince and princess, with their chief attendants, as 
well as many prominent officials and elderly persons, Neu- 
kirch and Frau von Bogdanoff among them, seated them- 
selves in the middle room, where there were only a few 
tables, while the young people proceeded to enjoy them- 
selves unrestrainedly in the adjoining apartments; and more 
than once Prince Dagobert could not refrain from casting 
longing glances in that direction, especially when a merry 
laugh resounded above the music, for the princess was 
very silent, only now and then exchanging a whispered 
remark with her maid-of-honor, as she toyed with the bit of 
game pie on her plate. 

To all her husband’s remarks she vouchsafed only mono- 
syllabic replies. 

At last, when the dessert was placed on the table. Prince 
Dagobert could endure it no longer, so with his wine-glass 
in his hand, he sprang up and started for the room where 
Ferra was sitting. The band was playing the duet from 
Boccaccio, and softly humming the words, “ Of the fair 
maids of Florence the fairest ’ art thou,” he touched his 
glass to hers. The adjutant rose instantly, but his high- 
ness motioned him to resume his seat. 

“ I do not come as a spoil sport, but merely to see that 
my guests are enjoying themselves,” he said, gaily. “ I 
hope you are pleased, madame.” 

“ Inexpressibly so, your Highness,” with an arch glance 
at Rommingen and Deuren, all her natural love of fun 
asserting itself. 

‘‘ And had you been free to choose, you would have asked 
no better attendants than these two officers of mine, I 
fancy.” 

“ No, your Highness. Chance has certainly been very 
kind in thus gratifying my wishes,” she replied, apparently 
without the slightest suspicion that the prince would have 
preferred a different response. 

“Women are strange creatures,” he retorted, stroking 
his long, sandy mustache; “ere to-morrow the sunshine of 


98 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


your favor will perhaps have set for these men, and may be 
shining upon another. May I ask you to touch your glass 
to mine? ” 

“ Does your Highness intend to make a wish after the 
Russian fashion?” she asked, gleefully, her head a trifle on 
one side, and her lustrous eyes full of fearless mirth. 

“ A wish; yes,” he whispered, again completely under 
the spell. “ Perhaps I may some time have a chance to put 
it into words.” 

It was with evident reluctance that he passed on to 
another table. Indeed, this fact was so apparent that the 
young hussar remarked: 

“ His Highness would certainly have been glad to change 
places with us, madame.” 

“Compliments are worth very little,” she replied, indif- 
ferently, playing with her fan. 

“ Even when paid by a prince?” 

“ More particularly so, perhaps, in that case.” 

Just then the sallow, angular face of Fraulein von 
Nobbe appeared in the doorway. She came straight 
toward Ferra. “ Her royal highness desires a few minutes’ 
conversation with you,” she said. “ May I conduct you to 
her? ” 

Ferra rose immediately, evidently much surprised. The 
adjutant and his friend also exchanged looks of astonish- 
ment. 

“What does this mean?” whispered Eustace. 

“ Enmity masked behind a smile,” responded the adju- 
tant in equally cautious tones. 

“ I fear we have been weighed in the balance and found 
wanting,” added Deuren. 

Meanwhile, the Princess Sibylle had motioned the fair 
Russian to a seat beside her. 

“ I am pleased to see that you seem to be enjoying your- 
self in our midst,” she said, but her icy tones belied the 
apparent friendliness of her words. 

“Your Highness is very kind.” 

“You have been living on your deceased husband’s 
estates in Russia up to the present time, have you not? ” 

“ Yes; at least for the past three years.” 

“ It seems strange,” remarked the princess, “ but if my 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


09 


memory serves me it is only the first marriage of Prince 
Arbanoff with a Princess Romanoff that is recorded in the 
Almanah de Gotha. No allusion whatever is made to his 
second marriage.” 

“ I really know nothing about that, your Highness,” 
replied Ferra, composedly. 

“ I may be wrong, but my dear Nobbe has an excellent 
memory, perhaps she can tell us all about it,” said the 
princess, glancing around; but seeing nothing of her 
friend, she again turned to Ferra, with a frigid smile on her 
thin lips. “ Put I forget, there is not the slightest need of 
consulting her as I have a much better informant at hand 
— yourself, madame. Unlike most people of the present 
day, who are becoming more and more inclined to consider 
birth and lineage of no importance, I take a deep interest 
in these matters, and am firmly convinced that a noble 
ancestry exerts an elevating and refining influence upon 
the character. For these reasons I am bitterly opposed to 
anything savoring of a misalliance. Of what noble family 
are you a descendant, madame?” 

Ferra’s breath came and went hurriedly and her fan 
fluttered nervously in her hand. Fraulein von Nobbe had 
drawn near at a sign from the princess, and her owl-like 
eyes were staring relentlessly upon the unfortunate victim 
of her spleen. 

“I was born in no princely mansion, your Highness,” 
Ferra said, at last. “ Dmitri Nasakoff, a Russian noble- 
man, called himself my father.” She hesitated perceptibly; 
a direct falsehood was hateful to her. 

“A mere nobleman,” repeated the princess, drawlingly. 
“ Then you had an immense dowry undoubtedly? ” 

“ I can not say.” 

“ But where did you live prior to your marriage? Where 
did your husband first make your acquaintance?” 

“In Paris. I was educated in the Convent of the Sacred 
Heart. My husband was kind enough to give me to under- 
stand that he married me for love,” she added, hastily, 
hoping this examination would soon be over. 

“But you were so young. Did you accept him from 
ambitious motives or — ” 


100 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ From gratitude,” Ferra interrupted, regardless of 
etiquette. 

“From gratitude? Was there any great cause for grat- 
itude, may I ask? ” 

Ferra plied her fan nervously, and the color deepened 
in her cheeks. She realized too late that she had been 
caught in a trap. 

“Yes,” she replied emphatically, for nothing could have 
induced her to impugn her deceased husband’s nobility of 
soul in the slightest degree, and as she spoke she glanced 
up with such a radiant smile that Prince Dagobert, who 
was just approaching, was more completely captivated than 
ever. 

“ I have come to ask you to walk through the green- 
houses, Sibylle. Neukirch has had them lighted up quite 
effectively, though they are really very unpretending 
affairs, built more for use than show,” he added, turning to 
Ferra. 

“Thanks; but the warm air always gives me a head- 
ache,” answered his consort, coldly. 

“ Then may I beg you to come. Princess? ” 

Ferra rose, and accepted Prince Dagobert’s proffered 
arm, delighted to be released. 

“ There is evidently some foundation for the report,” 
the princess whispered to her confidante. “ Did you 
notice how frightened she seemed, Amanda?” 

“ Not a look escaped me, your Highness.” 

“ And still the prince does not scruple — ” She paused 
and compressed her lips ominously. “ It is really too exas- 
perating, Amanda.” 

The doors leading into the conservatories, which formed 
a semicircle in the rear of the castle, were open, and the 
many-colored lights imparted a strangely fantastic appear- 
ance to the palms and yuccas and other varieties of tropical 
plants and shrubs. The houses themselves were really 
very unpretending structures, intended chiefly for forcing- 
houses; but quite a number of guests were strolling through 
them, and the number increased very considerably after 
the prince stepped into the warm, moist atmosphere, with 
Ferra on his arm. 

As he gazed down upon her, as she walked beside him 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


101 


in all the pride of her youthful loveliness, he sighed 
deeply. She looked up in surprise. 

“Is anything the matter, your Highness.? ” 

“Yes; I am very miserable, madame.” 

She paused in astonishment. “Impossible! Prince 
Dagobert, who always has a smile and pleasant word for 
every one! No one will ever believe that, your Highness.'’ 

“But all that is only a sham,” he replied, in subdued 
tones, but with an impassioned glance. “ My whole life is 
a sham. Duty, nothing but duty. After a cold, loveless 
youth comes a cold, loveless middle age. Oh! how I long 
sometimes to be a free man, unhampered — ” 

“Such longings must be very short-lived, your High- 
ness,” she said, naively. 

“ Possibly; after they have drained every drop of one’s 
heart’s blood.” 

They were standing a little apart from the others. The 
Bengal lights near them had gone out, though others were 
still burning in the distance. The soft dripping from the 
broad leaves of the tropical plants could be plainly heard 
in the stillness. A strange feeling of embarrassment 
assailed Ferra. 

“ I surely may say this to you, madame,” continued the 
prince, in still lower and more confidential tones, “ without 
any fear of — ” 

A firm, quick tread resounding on the gravel behind 
them made him pause abruptly, and draw back a step or 
two; then, pulling the leaf of a plant toward him, as if to 
examine it, he said, aloud: 

“I thank you for your interest, madame.” 

Rommingen was now beside them. 

“ Her H^ighness sent me to inquire if it is not time to 
return.” 

“There is no special haste, surely,” said the prince, 
impatiently. “ It must still be very early.” He glanced at 
his watch. “ Is it possible it is 8 o’clock? Who would 
have thought it? Ah well, Princess, you must not leave 
Tannhurst without some souvenir of your visit.” 

He hastily strode down a narrow path, opening just in 
front of them, until he came to a rose-bush adorned with 
only a single opening bud. 


102 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ In memory of — to-day;” he said, meaningly, to Ferra as 
he handed her the bud. 

“Thanks.” She took the flower and held it up. “Why, 
it is black, your Highness, and yet it is a rose in form and 
in fragrance,” she exclaimed, smelling of it, but glancing 
furtively all the while at Rommingen, standing silent in 
the background. 

“ I think I must now go and make my peace with the 
princess for having tarried here so long,” said the prince, 
lightly, though his adjutant’s presence evidently annoyed 
him. 

“Whither shall I conduct you, madame? ” asked the 
adjutant, in a much colder tone than he had ever before 
used in addressing her. 

She laughed. 

“ I decree that we shall remain here,” she answered, 
mischievously. “What is the matter? Are you vexed 
with me for laughing? ” 

“You laugh at everything, Princess; at my warnings, and, 
above all, at the fool who fancied they might do some 
good. My pride has certainly had a fall.” 

She put the rose between her red lips and glanced up at 
him mischievously from beneath her long, drooping lashes. 

“You will be none the worse for it, I think,” she retorted, 
gaily. “ Would you have me rude to the prince? ” 

“ Not rude, but more prudent.” 

She stamped her foot impatiently. “ This is becoming 
really very tiresome,” she exclaimed, half petulantly, half 
gaily. “ I shall feel strongly inclined to turn a deaf ear 
to all your wise precepts hereafter.” 

“ I beg you will not, madame; if not for your own sake 
— then for mine.” 

He seized her hand as he spoke, and the fingers that 
touched hers burned her like fire. Gazing up at him with 
startled eyes, she turned and then walked slowly toward 
the door. A few steps brought him to her side again. 

“ Are you angry with me? ” he asked, evidently much agi- 
tated. 

She shook her head. 

“I can not bear to hear you slandered,” he continued, 
vehemently. “ The mere thought of it makes my blood 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


103 


boil. Tell me that you are not offended by my plain 
speaking.” 

The only reply she gave him was to glance up with eyes 
brimming over with tears. 

“ Do not weep, I beg of' you,” he exclaimed, losing 
his last remnant of self-control. “Your tears madden 
me.” 

She dashed the drops from her cheek. 

“ Take me to Maria Paulowna,” she said, hastily. 

The little Russian was engaged in animated conversation 
with the Princess Sibylle when Ferra silently approached 
her. Traces of recent agitation were apparent on her 
features, but she was not angry. Her only feeling was one 
of intense, bewildering happiness: 

What a wonderful transformation had been wrought 
within the last quarter of an hour. Her every thought was 
of Rommingen, and she started as if suddenly aroused 
from a dream when Fraulein von Nobbe approached her, 
and in a hard, shrill voice exclaimed: 

“A black rose! Where did 5"Ou find such a marvel, 
Princess? ” 

“A black rose! ” The Princess Sibylle turned pale and 
hastily advanced a few steps toward Ferra. “ It is cer- 
tainly my rose you have there, madame.” 

Ferra looked painfully embarrassed. 

“ His highness picked it for me in the greenhouse,” she 
said, apologetically. 

“ And was there no gardener there to tell you that the 
graft had been my special care, and that I was deeply 
interested in the result? ” 

“ No, your Highness. Permit me, however, to atone as 
far as possible for my fault by restoring your property to 
you.” 

“ I resign all claim to it,” said the princess, coldly and 
haughtily. 

“Rut we may be allowed to admire it, perhaps,” said 
Fraulein von Nobbe, extending her hand for the rose. 
“ The outer leaves are indeed black; the inner ones a deep 
crimson, and how delightfully fragrant it is,” she added, 
rapturously. 

“ Let me, too, look at it,” said the mistress of the robes, 


104 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


approaching Fraulein von Nobbe, and gazing commiserat- 
ingly at the flower. 

‘‘What a pity! ” she murmured. “It is such a terrible 
disappointment to her highness.” 

The words were uttered loud enough for Ferra to hear 
them perfectly, however. She felt as if she were standing 
on coals of fire before these women, whose looks were even 
more hostile than their words. She turned to Maria 
Paulowna for sympathy, but her cousin had disappeared. 

4'he Princess Sibylle suddenly stretched out her hand 
for the rose; Fraulein von Nobbe hastily interposed with 
the evident intention of handing her the flower, but either 
through awkwardness on the part of the princess, or too 
much haste on the part of the maid-of-honor, the bud was 
broken off close to the stem, and fell to the floor. With a 
little affected shriek of consternation, Fraulein von Nobbe 
stooped to pick up the flower. 

“ Alas! it is utterly ruined! ” 

The remark seemed to be addressed to Ferra rather than 
to the princess, who, with the mutilated stalk in her hand, 
insisted upon knowing how it happened. 

“ When such an accident occurs among people in the 
lower walks of life, your Highness, it is a common saying 
that fate has interposed to prevent a wrong,” said Frau 
von Bogdanoff, who had reappeared as suddenly and mys- 
teriously as she had vanished, and who now spoke in her 
most dulcet tones; “but of course we only laugh at such 
absurdly plebeian fancies, do we not, Fraulein von Nobbe? ” 

The maid-of-honor blushed a little, and the faint flush 
was plainly visible on her sallow cheek, for under the 
Princess Sibylle’s reign rouge pots and powder puffs were 
rigorously tabooed. 

“ I insist upon returning the flower to you, madame. 
You alone have a right to it,” said the Princess Sibylle, 
leaning forward and holding out the rose to Ferra directly 
in front of Frau von Bogdanoff, who instantly seized it. 

“ Things that are ruined have no charms for us, your 
Highness,” she said, sweetly, tossing the fragrant flower 
carelessly into the fire blazing on the hearth. It lay there 
a moment embedded in the fiery glow, then the leaves 
began to shrivel, and in another second the costly bios- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


105 


som had vanished from sight, leaving only a black speck 
behind. 

Ferra looked eagerly about her, as if seeking aid from 
some quarter, for the intention to wound and humiliate 
her was glaringly apparent; but the tall form of the adju- 
tant was nowhere visible. 

The moment of departure came. The princely pair 
seated themselves in their sleigh, and were about to’start, 
when the princess beckoned to Rommingen, who was stand- 
ing on the steps, and said: 

“My dear Count, it seems to me — will you not have some 
servant see if this robe is not hanging out? ” 

Rommingen instantly stooped to adjust .the bear-skin 
himself, but there was no necessity. 

“ It is all right, your Highness.” 

“ Many thanks! It seems much more comfortable now,” 
was the reply, extending her hand as she spoke. He raised 
it respectfully to his lips and, certainly, received a close, 
warm, answering pressure. 

He turned to look for his special charge. She was 
standing beside Frau von Bogdanoff in the spacious door- 
way, the light from within streaming full upon her; and as 
he gazed a feeling of intense happiness almost overpowered 
him. 

Outriders, bearing blazing torches, preceded the party 
out of the court-yard. Ferra, who had seen Rommingen’s 
look, came toward him of her own accord. He helped her 
into the sleigh in silence, and they drove off into the cold, 
starlit night. Neither of them uttered a word; their hearts 
were throbbing too fast; ordinary conversation seemed an 
impossibility. Detlef asked himself, wonderingly, if this 
bewildering emotion could be love. A few weeks ago he 
would have deemed such a sudden and blind infatuation 
arrant folly. It had seemed to him then that reason must 
be a potent factor in the matter; and reason would surely 
have reminded him that he knew Ferra very, very slightly, 
but all this was forgotten now. 

Whether the lurid light of the torches clearly revealed 
her beautiful, radiant face; or the smoke, whose shadow lay 
like a dark cloud upon the white snow, obscured it, the 
charm remained the same. She had taken her hands from 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


10 G 

her muff; and as she nervously toyed with her bracelets, 
her lashes drooped so low upon her cheek that her eyes 
seemed to be closed. 

“You are not angry with me, madame,” Rommingen at 
last said, softly, laying his hand on hers. 

“No, I have never been! ” 

A timid glance met his. He took her hand and kissed it 
again'and again. If he had spoken it would have been in 
the wildest and most impassioned strain, and the slight 
vestige of self-control he still retained prevented that, so 
they again relapsed into silence. 

As Frau von Bogdanoff’s sleigh was taking the adjutant 
home after leaving Ferra, he noticed a small, white object 
lying on the seat beside him. It was Ferra’s lace handker- 
chief. He picked it up and held it thoughtfully in his 
hand, as if it were a bond between them. He debated with 
himself whether he should keep it or not; he longed to 
press it to his lips, as he had seen Ferra do; but when 
the sleigh stopped, pride had conquered this momentary 
weakness, and he quietly laid the handkerchief back on 
the seat. 

“ I will do nothing I have not the right to do,” he said to 
himself, although it cost him no slight sacrifice to relin- 
quish the trifle which seemed so precious because it 
belonged to her, and because she had dried upon it the 
tears he had caused her to shed. 

The prince and princess also had a rather silent drive 
homeward. When they first started, the princess alluded 
in the most scathing manner to the affair of the rose, and 
the crime of which the prince had been guilty. In vain her 
husband assured her that he was quite unaware that she 
took any special interest in the rose when he plucked it. 
This fact did not seem to mitigate his offense in the least, 
in her eyes, for she remarked: 

“ Besides, as Madame Arbanoff’s father was of compara- 
tively obscure origin, I think it would be advisable for you 
to be less marked in your attentions to her, Dagobert.” 

“ How did you learn that fact? ” he asked, much sur- 
prised. 

“ From herself.” 

His highness stifled a yawn. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


107 


That really is a matter of no consequence, whatever. 
She is a Princess Arbanoff now, and that suffices.” 

“For you, perhaps, but not for me. Beauty alone does 
not satisfy me.” 

“But she is certainly very agreeable,” insisted the prince 
with a slight laugh; “and I must admit that I prefer per- 
sonal charms to a long pedigree.” 

“You!” 

The exclamation was uttered in such a tone of withering 
contempt that Prince Dagobert said no more, but leaned 
back and closed his eyes as if weary of the discussion. 

The princess thought angrily: 

“ He allows himself the utmost liberty, and shows me 
plainly every day how little I am to him. Now, when I 
find that I, too, long for love, why should I struggle in 
silence when there is no one who will feel in the least 
aggrieved if I yield to the promptings of my heart?” 

She clasped her cold hands, and smothered the tearless 
sob that sprang to her lips; but she inwardly resolved to 
contend with herself no longer, as before her mental vision 
rose the handsome iace of another and very different man 
from her husband. He was whispering words of love into 
the ear of a woman he held clasped to his heart in a pas- 
sionate embrace; and this woman was — herself. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Several weeks passed, during which Detlef and Ferra met 
almost constantly. A longing to look upon her face and 
hear her voice led him to seek her society continually. Up 
to this time, the adjutant had always been noted for his 
coldness and reserve; and the many fair ladies who had 
done their best to captivate this handsome and fastidious 
man had ignominiously failed in their efforts. To tell the 
truth, Frau von Bogdanoff was not far from right when 
she declared he had never wavered in his allegiance to his 
first love — his grandmother. The woman upon whom he 
would bestow his name, and to whom he would intrust his 
honor, must not only possess personal attractions, but those 


108 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


far more important and enduring graces of mind and char- 
acter; and thus far he had sought his ideal in vain. 

He loved Ferra. He realized the fact perfectly when he 
was near her, and listened to her musical voice, and gazed 
into her shining eyes. Sometimes there were hours when 
her manner seemed so gentle and maidenly that the long- 
ing to clasp her in his arms, to shower kisses upon her 
golden hair, and entreat her to be his forever, became well 
nigh irresistible. 

Then a more daring look, a louder laugh, or a freer word 
than he would like in his wife repelled him and closed his 
lips. 

“Why does he not speak?” Ferra said to herself, impa- 
tiently. “Can he not see that I care for no one but him!” 

In this mood, she was, sometimes, rather too forward; 
then, irritated by his continued silence, she went to the other 
extreme, and flirted desperately with the prince, who was as 
devoted as ever, entirely ignoring his adjutant. Seeing 
Detlef’s eyes resting thoughtfully upon her after such a 
scene, she scornfully said to him over her shoulder: 

“You would like to scold me again, I presume?” 

“No, madame! I shall never repeat that offense.” 

She bit her lips; his tone brought the blood to her face. 

“What have I done? Good heavens, what have I done?” 
she cried, stormily. “The prince sees nothing to complain 
of in me.” 

Rommingen answered never a word. 

“Why do you not speak?” she demanded, her cheek 
flushing angrily. “Can it be that you are jealous. 
Count?” 

‘‘Would such an admission on my part content you, 
madame, or would it only increase your desire to show 
your power?” 

“You must have a very poor opinion of me.” 

“I judge merely from facts.” 

“No one has any right to form such an opinion of me, 
you least of all.” 

She turned and walked away, her head high in the air, 
as proud and haughty in her manner as she was sad and 
troubled in her secret heart. 

“ I shall never become like the woman he desires to call 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


109 


wife,” she thought, sadly, and though she felt more like 
weeping than laughing, she danced and flirted more gaily 
than ever. 

Rommingen stood a little distance off, and watched her. 
Every disapproving word he uttered only served to erect 
another barrier between them; but though he was painfully 
conscious that there was no possible escape from his 
thralldom, and that further resistance was worse than use- 
less, he still struggled against his infatuation from 
principle. 

It had rained or snowed all day. Prince Dagobert was 
lying stretched out on a couch in his study, with a cigar 
in his mouth, and his hands clasped above his head. Neu- 
kirch sat near him, softly rubbing his hands; he never 
smoked. 

“ You must admit that I am the least exacting of mortals, 
old fellow,” remarked the prince. “What great boon do I ask? 
Merely to laugh and enjoy myself for a couple of hours, 
now and then, without being subjected to fault-finding from 
one quarter and an exaggerated show of deference from 
another. The Princess Arbanoff’s society affects me very 
much like champagne, so why should I deny myself such 
an innocent pleasure?” 

“ Count Rommingen seems to take equal pleasure in it, 
your Highness.” 

“Rommingen! Nonsense! He is entirely too conven- 
tional for that. The least spark of originality would 
horrify him. Did you notice his face the other evening 
when she tapped me with her fan? ” and Prince Dagobert 
laughed heartily. 

“Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that your adjutant 
exercises considerable influence over that fair lady’s 
moods, your Highness.” 

But the prince waved his hand incredulously. 

“How absurd! lam inclined to think that she must 
have heard something against me lately, though. Nobbe, 
the Bogdauoff, and even my honored consort, are not 
altogether to be trusted. The princess has certainly been 
very cool and reserved in her manner of late.” 

“ There may be several reasons for the change you speak 


110 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


of, your Highness,” responded Neukirch. The idea of 
acting the part of a messenger of love was by no means 
distasteful to him, but there seemed to be no chance of 
that just now. 

“ I should really like to have just one opportunity to see 
the Princess Arbanoff alone,” remarked the prince, thought- 
fully, after a moment’s silence. “ I feel sure 1 could soon 
persuade her to tell me the cause of her changed manner. 
If it is on account of all this gossip, I can soon prove to 
her that there is not one word of truth in it; if it results 
from something else, reserve or — ” 

The silence that ensued was so prolonged that Neukirch 
found it necessary to remind the prince of his presence by 
a slight cough; whereupon the latter hastily raised himself 
on his elbow and asked: 

“ Can’t you manage it for me, old fellow?” 

“ Perhaps so, if chance will only aid us a little, your 
Highness.” 

“ Bah! it is not my way to trust to chance. If she comes 
to one’s assistance unsolicited, she is sure to be unwel- 
come; and the more earnestly you entreat her aid, the 
longer she is in coming. Think the matter over. With 
your intimacy at the house, you ought to be able to arrange 
it without the slightest trouble, and in the most natural 
manner imaginable.” 

Neukirch was silent for a moment, then he said with his 
most insinuating smile: 

“ My royal master will always find me ready to serve 
him to the very best of my ability, and I hope I shall be 
able to gratify his wishes in this case; only you must have 
patience, your Highness.” 

“ Oh, I’ve been obliged to learn patience already,” sighed 
the prince, falling back upon his pillows. As he spoke, 
the clock on the mantel struck the hour, and simultane- 
ously a shower of hail dashed against the window panes. 

“ What frightful weather! Nevertheless, I must go; my 
uncle is such a stickler for punctuality. Heaven only 
knows what new star he has discovered now! He seeks 
his in the firmament above, I upon the earth below. You 
had better go with me; I’ll drop you at your door. And 
Neukirch, please have the goodness to say to my adjutant 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Ill 


that he is relieved from duty at the castle, but that I 
should like him to accompany the princess and her ladies 
to the opera. I never can form any idea of the amount of 
time my royal uncle will consume in acquainting me with 
the latest celestial phenomena, so it is quite likely that I 
shall be a few minutes late; and Sibylle attaches such 
immense importance to these trifles that any delay on my 
part would be sure to annoy her, as well as to excite 
unpleasant suspicions. If Rommingen is there, she will 
know that I at least intended to come.” 

With a careless wave of the hand, the prince dismissed 
Neukirch on his errand, and went into the adjoining room 
to make his toilet. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The overture to Lohengrin had begun. The house was 
crowded, for it had been noised abroad that the Prince and 
Princess Dagobert intended to honor the performance with 

their presence, and the patriotic citizens of D always 

turned out in full force on such occasions. Attired with 
puritanical simplicity. Princess Sibylle sat rigidly erect in 
the gorgeously decorated royal box, with its rich hangings 
of purple velvet looped back with gilt halberds. Fraulein 
von Nobbe sat directly behind her royal mistress, and 
Rommingen occupied a seat back of the prince’s vacant 
, chair. His eyes were riveted on the box Frau von Bog- 
danoff and her cousin had taken for the winter, for he was 
longing for a look at Ferra. 

In a small proscenium box sat Neukirch, “freshly 
painted and powdered,” as Fraulein von Nobbe remarked, 
stretching her neck over the railing to get a look at him as 
he sat coolly scrutinizing all the pretty faces in the audience 
through his opera-glass. 

As the last notes of the overture died away, Frau von 
Bogdanoff entered her box, but alone. She drew the rich 
curtains back, took out her opera-glass, and settled herself 
comfortably in her seat. It was very evident that she did 
not expect to have any companion that evening. 


112 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ She has had a little tiff with her fair cousin, I suspect,” 
said Amanda, after a prolonged survey of the little Rus- 
sian, who did look rather out of humor. 

Detlef was sorely disappointed to see that the seat at 
which he had been anxiously gazing was likely to remain 
vacant. As was almost always the case when he was 
absent from Ferra, his passion for her waxed stronger, and 
everything else seemed of little moment in comparison 
with the possession of her. When Elsa, unjustly accused, 
rushed out seeking a champion, she seemed to him the 
very personification of Ferra in her youth and beauty. 
The golden hair of the actress made the resemblance all 
the more striking, and had Ferra been beside him the* 
barrier between them might have been swept away then 
and there. But while the adjutant was engrossed in 
thoughts like these, plan after plan was suggesting itself 
to Neukirch’s mind. He had noticed that Frau von 
Bogdanoff came in alone, and a glance at the mirror in the 
back of the box showed him that Prince Dagobert’s chair 
was still empty. The conversation of the afternoon 
occurred to him. He was extremely anxious, of course, 
to please his royal master, and chance had come quickly 
and unexpectedly to his aid, if he would but profit by the 
situation; and Neukirch was too old a courtier not to 
consider a ruler’s wish his law. 

Taking a tiny bouquet of violets from his button-hole, he 
hastened to the box-opener and dispatched it by that 
functionary to Frau von Bogdanoff, with a request to know 
why her charming cousin was not with her. 

“ The princess has a headache,” was the laconic answer; 
and Neukirch, who considered a headache and capricious- 
ness synonymous terms so far as women were concerned, 
felt that his opportunity had come, and after partially 
closing the screen in front of the box, hastily slipped out 
when he thought no one in the theater was observing him. 

The first act ended, and a general movement in the large 
audience followed the fall of the curtain. Many visits 
were paid to the numerous boxes, and the royal box was 
crowded with persons eager to pay their respects to the 
princess. 

“ I see your cousin is not here this evening,” remarked 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


m 


the princess to Maria Paulowna, who was one of the 
numerous visitors. 

“ No, your Highness, she has a headache.” 

“ A terrible affliction, as I know only too well.” 

While the princess was engaged in exchanging greetings 
with the members of her court, Erdmann von Nobbe was 
in the back of the box beside his sister. He never 
neglected an opportunity to lay his homage at the feet of 
the princess and to extort a few words from her, feeling 
that this intercourse with royalty greatly increased his 
importance in the eyes of his acquaintances. 

“ I thought the prince was here,” he remarked, glancing 
at the empty chair. 

“ Not yet, though the princess has asked for him very 
impatiently a number of times. She hates to appear in 
public without him.” 

“Very naturally, as people are prone to consider her a 
neglected and deeply injured wife when her husband is not 
beside her. But he was in the theater awhile ago.” 

“The prince! You must be mistaken, Erdmann.” 

“ No, I am not mistaken. He was coming up the steps 
when Neukirch met him. I was terribly thirsty and in a 
hurry to reach the buffet, so I slipped by them without 
their observing me.” 

“ How strange! ” 

• “ Strange? If you think so, you are much more stupid 
than I always supposed you to be. How does it happen 
that the Princess Arbanoff has a headache this evening? ” 

“Erdmann!” 

“ One has to search carefully to discover the explanation 
of these mysteries, sometimes,” said Nobbe, in his cynical 
way. “ I can only vouch for what I saw with my own 
eyes.” He cast a hasty glance at Neukirch’s box, where 
the screen was now drawn aside, revealing that gentleman 
sitting with folded arms and a most benevolent smile, look- 
ing too innocent to harm a fly. “ The old sinner! ” mut- 
tered the tall lieutenant, contemptuously, for strange to 
say each of these men who got a peep at his neighbor’s 
card felt a certain contempt for him without stopping to 
ask himself if his own play was strictly honest. 

Princess Sibylle had scarcely found an opportunity to 
8 


114 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


speak to Detlef when the rising of the curtain put an end 
to all conversation. The maid-of-honor noticed two crim- 
son spots on her mistress’ cheeks — a sure sign of agitation 
with her — but she ascribed them to the continued absence 
of his royal highness. 

“My brother saw Prince Dagobert enter the house about 
a quarter of an hour ago, your Highness,” she whispered, 
leaning over the back of Sibylle’s chair. 

“Impossible, Amanda! Where can he be then?” 
exclaimed the princess, all attention immediately. 

The maid-of-honor shrugged her shoulders. 

“ He was talking with Neukirch, who seemed to have 
been waiting for him, your Highness.” • 

“ Who saw them? ” 

“ My brother, as I said before, your Highness; and you 
may rely implicitly upon anything that Erdmann says. He 
would not have my dear mistress alarmed unnecessarily for 
the world; he is so devoted to your Highness. But there 
is no likelihood whatever that there is anything serious the 
matter. Had there been, Neukirch would certainly have 
given the adjutant an inkling of it. Some little appoint- 
ment doubtless; but good heavens! your Highness, how 
agitated you are! Do take my smelling-salt^,” she whined. 

The princess was trembling, and her bosom heaved 
angrily, for her jealous suspicions were now thoroughly 
aroused. 

“I did not suppose for a moment that you would attach 
any importance to what I said, your Highness. I did not, 
indeed,” continued the maid-of-honor, in the same whining 
tone. “ I meant it kindly — ” 

“Nevertheless, you attach some importance to it, 
Amanda,” the princess interrupted, angrily. 

Fraulein von Nobbe hung her head. 

“ I really don’t know,” she gasped, weakly. 

The princess sank back in her chair and covered her face 
with her tortoise-shell fan. 

“Count Rommingen,” she said, after a moment, sud- 
denly turning to the adjutant, and looking up at him with 
eager, restless eyes. Detlef leaned forward, but the music 
prevented him from hearing what she said. 

“ Move your chair farther forward, my husband will not 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


115 


be here for some time,” said the princess, bitterly; “there 
is something 1 wish to say to you.” 

The adjutant obeyed, and then turned inquiringly to the 
princess. She had closed her fan, and taking it now in 
both hands, she bent the sticks as if to test their strength. 
She seemed to have entirely forgotten what she wished to 
say. He saw the veins swell in her throat, and her thin 
lips compress themselves into a straight line; then, snap! 
went the costly fan in her nervous grasp. Fraulein von 
Nobbe uttered an exclamation of dismay, but the princess, 
though generally so parsimonious, seemed unconscious of 
the destruction she had wrought. Her thoughts were 
evidently far away. 

“Will you do me a favor. Count?” she blushed deeply 
as she spoke. 

“Your Highness has but to speak.” 

“ It may be that this service will necessitate the exercise 
of considerable caution on your part,” she continued, evi- 
dently much agitated. 

“ What can she want? ” thought Detlef, much astonished. 

“Frau von Bogdanoff told me just now that her cousin 
has a headache. I know what a terrible thing a headache 
is, but I have a sure cure for it.” 

She looked at him as if expecting an answer, but Detlef 
was silent. Though he tried his best, he could not imagine 
what the princess was aiming at. 

“ It is certainly our duty to sympathize with those who 
are suffering. Count,” she continued. 

Another stick broke in twain in her hands. 

“ Most assuredly, your Highness.” 

“What is more eagerly and, alas! more vainly sought 
than a sympathizing heart,” she said, with a strong empha- 
sis, and in the eyes she raised to his there was an expres- 
sion at once so ardent and so full of intense misery that 
Rommingen was startled. Could the cold eyes of the 
princess really wear a look like that? The light must have 
deceived him. He glanced again at the cold, haughty face 
beside him;' it wore its wonted expression and was again 
turned toward Frau von Bogdanoff’s box. 

“And yet I would have sworn that it was not' all due to 
the light,” thought Detlef, dubiously. 


110 


THE FLOWER GIRT- OF PARIS. 


“I would like to send the Princess Arbanoff my vinai' 
grette. Will you undertake the commission for me, Count? ” 

“ It is too late, I fear, your Highness.” < 

“ Surely not, if I send you, my dear Count. I don’t 
believe that Russians are quite as particular in such matters 
as — as we Germans, for example; besides, the end justifies 
the means, you know.” 

A strange contemptuous smile played around her lips as 
she drew a long silver smelling-bottle from her belt. 

“Here, take it. I will make your excuses to the prince 
if he comes in before the close of the performance. Please 
say to the Princess Arbanoff that I hope she will soon l^e 
better.” 

Even through her glove, he could feel that her fingers 
were icy cold when she handed him the flask. 

The heart of the adjutant beat high as he closed the - 
door of the box behind him. Though he was considerably 
surprised, and not a little annoyed at Princess Sibylle’s 
commission, he would have been neither a man nor a lover 
if a feeling of intense happiness had not finally become 
predominant. He would see Ferra this very evening per- 
haps, and even if the interview were to last but for a 
moment, and take place in the presence of a third party, 
he would be near her, he would breathe the same air, and 
be able to say a sympathizing word. 

But the nearer he approached the Bogdanoff mansion, 
the more uneasy he became. What if the princess should 
consider his late call an unpardonable liberty? An intense 
longing for action seized him, and, notwithstanding the 
rain and snow, he made the driver stop at the corner of the 
next street, and sprang out of the cab resolved to walk 
the rest of the way. Ashe directed his eager gaze toward 
the house, now only a short distance from him, he noticed a 
handsome coupe standing before the door, and saw a tall 
‘distinguishe-dlooking man, enveloped in a military cloak, 
hastily cross the pavement and enter the vehicle, which then 
started off at a brisk trot toward the center of the town. 

Detlef von Rommingen stood as if paralyzed for a 
moment, so great was his consternation. Glad as he 
would have been to doubt, this was impossible, for he had 
recognized the prince perfectly. His rage and indignation 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


117 


seemed to choke him, and that foul fiend, jealousy, clutched 
his heart with a relentless hand. Was this purely acci- 
dental, or had the princess been aware of it? Poor 
woman! He did not say. Poor Detlef, but he set his 
teeth and clenched his hands convulsively. As his fingers 
tightened about the vinaigrette, which was still in his hand, 
he remembered that he had accepted a commission, and 
however distasteful it might be to him now, this revelation 
did not release him from the necessity of fulfilling it. He 
resolved that he would merely hand the smelling-bottle to 
Ferra’s maid. The whole dreary farce was only too appar- 
ent, now. The snow and rain dashed violently in his face, 
but he was not even conscious of the fact. A far wilder 
tempest was raging in his soul, nor had it abated in the 
slightest degree when the massive doors of the Bogdanoff 
mansion flew open in answer to his ring. 

Prince Dagobert entered the royal box just as the third 
act of the opera was about to begin. The princess turned 
a trifle paler on perceiving him, and the maid-of-honor 
seemed thoroughly frightened. The prince looked very 
warm and very much out of humor. On perceiving that 
Rommingen’s place was vacant, he frowned angrily. 

“ Is my adjutant not here?” he asked, as he seated him- 
self. “ I ordered him to be in attendance.” 

“ He was here until about a quarter of an hour ago, when 
I sent him out to do a little errand for me.” 

“ I must beg that you will never do anything of the sort 
in future, Sibylle. Where has he gone?” 

“ I sent him to the Princess Arbanoff with my vinaigrette. 
Frau von Bogdanoff told me that her cousin was suffering 
with a frightful headache, and I thought my smelling-salts 
might relieve her,” replied the princess, fixing her eyes 
coldly and searchingly on her husband, who averted his 
head and twisted his mustache nervously. 

“ Indeed, that is quite another thing. You might well 
be confident of my approval under such circumstances; 
only it is very late, Sibylle, and such a visit might furnish 
food for gossip. Did you think of that? Besides, you are 
not wont to be so compassionate.” And he scrutinized her 
face closely in his turn. 


118 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ I do what I think to be my duty,” answered the 
princess, coldly. “ You really must allow me to be guided 
by my own judgment, Dagobert.” 

The prince pressed his lips tightly together, and picking 
up the broken fan from the railing in front of the box, he 
amused himself by snapping the remainder of the sticks. 
It seemed to be a relief to him to vent his wrath upon 
some inanimate object. 

“ Ah,” remarked the princess, sarcastically, seeing how he 
was employed, “everything can not be so easily crushed, 
mon cher." 

Prince Dagobert glanced up with a sudden start, and 
hastily laid down the fan. * 

“ Pardon me,” he said, curtly, “it will give me pleasure 
to present you with a new one in place of this.” 

He listened to the rest of the opera in grim silence. . 
Meanwhile, his consort watched the door, anxiously await- 
ing Rommingen’s return, but he failed to make his appear- 
ance. 

The opera came to an end; the princely couple arose, but 
still the adjutant did not come. The prince frowned, and 
angrily censured this neglect of duty, though Neukirch 
promptly offered his services. As they drove home, the 
princess leaned moodily back in the corner of the carriage, 
not even addressing a word to her maid-of-honor, thus 
filling that lady’s heart with intense consternation. 

A liveried footman confronted Detlef as he entered the 
hall of the Bogdanoff mansion, and Mademoiselle Jacque- 
line’s retrousse nose was just disappearing behind the 
heavy Turkish portiere that concealed the doorway leading 
to the Princess Arbanoff’s apartments. 

“Can I see her highness?” asked Detlef, curtly. 

“Her highness is suffering with a headache, unfortu- 
nately.” 

A scornful smile curved the young man’s lips. For peo- 
ple in general, a headache — and he was one of these peo- 
ple; a headache, but not for Prince Dagobert. 

“ Call her maid,” he said, authoritatively. 

“Here I am, Herr Count,” and Jacqueline came briskly 
forward. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


119 


“ If I can not see your mistress, give her this vinaigrette. 
The Princess Sibylle intrusted it to me to deliver, in the 
hope that it might help her highness.” 

“ I will take it to her immediately; but will not the Herr 
Count be kind enough to wait a moment. His highness, 
the prince, called just now to inquire after madame, but 
she would not receive him, though he waited fully a quar- 
ter of an hour in the blue drawing-room. Possibly 
madame may wish to send some message now, so pray wait 
just one moment.” 

She ushered Rommingen into the blue drawing-room and 
hurried away. 

There was but a single gas-jet burning in the crystal 
chandelier, but it seemed to Detlef that he had suddenly 
stepped into a blaze of sunshine. The entire world had 
suddenly undergone a complete transformation. He could 
have shouted for joy. The prince had not been received. 
He abased himself in spirit before Ferra, imploring her for- 
giveness a thousand times for his unworthy suspicions. 
Here in this same room, the prince had hoped and waited, 
but in vain. It was different with him, he neither hoped 
nor waited. Even if Ferra refused to see him, he would 
think it only natural that she should decline to make an 
exception in the case of any one. 

Upon one of the low chairs lay a lace scarf, such as 
ladies often wear around the neck and shoulders. He 
caught it up and kissed it passionately; even though it 
might belong to Maria Paulowna, he did not care. 

It seemed to him that he could hear the heavy throbbing 
of his heart. He stretched out his arms, and could hardly 
refrain from calling her name aloud, in the passionate long- 
ing that had suddenly seized him. 

“ Ferra, Ferra! ” he murmured, tenderly. 

“Good-evening, Count.” The words rang in his ears 
like an answer to his impassioned call. Ferra stood there 
under the blue satin portiere, with one arm uplifted above her 
head to hold back the rich folds, the other hanging by her 
side. A loosely fitting robe of soft white woolen stuff 
enveloped her tall figure, and was confined at the waist by 
a gold cord and tassel. Her loosely bound red-gold hair 
fell in heavy waves upon her neck and shoulders in a pict- 


120 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


uresque confusion no Parisian hair-dresser could have 
achieved, and her beautiful lustrous eyes gazed half shyly, 
half archly into his. 

Every fiber of his being thrilled with such rapturous 
delight on thus beholding her, that he stood as if paralyzed. 

“I am no ghost,” she said, approaching him; “though 
you seem to think so. Are you horrified that I should con- 
sent to see a visitor at this late hour? But did not her 
highness send you? ” 

“Unquestionably; Frau von Bogdanoff said you were 
suffering,” he stammered. 

She laughed gleefully. “That is all over now. Pain 
never tyrannizes over me long, and you came just at thd* 
right moment, for my own society was beginning to bore 
me terribly, so I shall keep you awhile.” 

She sank into the nearest chair and motioned him to 
another beside her, which he took obediently. 

“ Nevertheless, you declined to see the prince,” he vent- 
ured. 

“The prince? Oh! that is a very different thing,” she 
answered, frowning slightly. “ There was no special rea- 
son why I should feel obliged to see him, and — one can no 
more account for one’s likes than for one’s dislikes.” 

Her eyes were fixed upon his face, though her fingers 
were toying nervously with a gardenia she had taken from 
a jardiniere near by. 

“And both often fall to our lot quite undeservedly,” he 
answered, with a deep sigh, scarcely knowing what he said. 

“ And sometimes even against one’s will. I know per- 
sons who set but small store upon my regard,” she said, 
leaning back in her chair, and looking up at him. 

“ Impossible! ” 

“You certainly have no right to contradict me.” 

“ You must know better than that. Princess.” He uttered 
this last word slowly, as if setting a mark beyond which he 
must not venture. 

“ Oh! no, I understand you perfectly. I am not strong- 
minded, nor noble, nor magnanimous; I am only a woman, 
with all the faults and weaknesses of my sex; but I am all 
the more grieved, perhaps, that any one should misjudge 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


121 


me without taking the trouble to find out whether I really 
deserve his censure or not.” 

“Who has misjudged you, madame?” He had seized 
her soft warm hand, and as it lay unresistingly in his an 
electric current seemed to flow from it, thrilling his every 
nerve. 

“ The person you see there,” she said, half laughingly, 
half tearfully, pointing to the lofty mirror in front of them, 
in which Detlef’s tall form was reflected. “Will you not 
speak a good word for me? because — well, because it 
makes me so unhappy to know that he does not think 
well of me.” 

Her eyes drooped and she evidently found it difficult to 
restrain her tears. What if she was neither great nor lofty- 
minded just at this moment, he would not have exchanged 
her for the personification of all the virtues. It was her 
and her alone that he desired. 

“ Ferra,” he murmured, passionately, for the rapid throb- 
bing of his heart seemed to suffocate him, “ if you only 
knew how fondly and devotedly I love you, how I have 
struggled — ” 

He could proceed no farther, for two soft arms were sud- 
denly clasped about his neck, a flood of red-gold hair 
swept his cheek and breast, and two beautiful eyes, close 
to his, sparkled rapturously through a mist of tears, as a 
sweet voice whispered, exultantly, “ At last, at last! Oh, 
you wicked man, how could you treat me so! ” 

As her lips met his in a long ardent kiss of betrothal, 
his last misgiving vanished, and he realized for the first 
time how passionately he loved her, and how impossible it 
would be for him to live without her. As he clasped her 
in his arms, everything else was forgotten. 

“You are mine, mine forever, Detlef, are you not?” she 
whispered, tenderly. “I am so unspeakably happy. Ah, I 
have doubted your love so often that I want to hear you 
assure me of it again and again. You will think me insa- 
tiable, I fear.” 

She leaned back, and half closed her eyes, her hands all 
the while tightly clasping his, while, kneeling on a cushion 
at her feet, he lavished upon her all the endearing words he 
had so often addressed to her in his dreams. She listened 


122 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


to his protestations of love with bated breath and parted 
lips, as a child listens to some wonderful fairy tale. 

“ And you will always love me thus, Detlef? ” she asked, 
at last. 

“ Always.” 

“Just as I am? With all my faults? ” 

“Just as you are, my own darling.” 

She leaned forward and wound a long lock of her red- 
gold hair around his neck. “ Now you are indeed my 
prisoner,” she said, gaily. 

The little porcelain clock on the mantel struck lo, and 
Detlef hastily released himself from his fetters and rose to 
his feet. 

“ We have forgotten the flight of time, Ferra. I must go, 
now.” 

She clasped her hands, and, without moving from her 
seat, glanced up at him, and said, softly: 

“ Stay with me a little longer, Detlef.” 

He started toward the door. 

“ Stay, Detlef,” she repeated, pleadingly. 

He turned, and hastily retracing his steps again, threw 
himself at her feet. 

“ Ferra, your power over me is something terrible,” he 
said, gravely, almost sadly. “ God grant that there may 
never be any serious difference of opinion between us two.” 

“ But is not your love for me strong enough to make >ou 
forget it?” she asked, hastily, with something very like fear 
in her eyes. 

“ I do not know. But why think of that, and mar the 
blissful present with unpleasant possibilities? What could 
ever come between us? Are you not perfectly free as well 
as myself? Do we not love each other, and is there not a 
happy future before us? Oh! my darling, my darling. You 
can not imagine yet how much you are to me! ” he 
exclaimed, clasping his arms around her with passionate 
ardor, and yet with the reverent tenderness due his future 
wife. 

“Indeed! ” piped Maria Paulowna’s rather shrill voice. 

They had not heard the carriage drive up, nor the door 
open, and the little Russian was now standing on the 
theshold with her head a trifle on one side, and her 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


123 


obliquely set eyes riveted upon the lovers. Ferra flew to 
her cousin. 

“ Oh! Pussy, dear Pussy, he loves me. We are betrothed,” 
she exclaimed. 

“I should judge so,” responded Frau von Bogdanoff, 
rather sarcastically. “Well, as you are both in such a 
blissful state of mind, I can certainly do no less than con- 
gratulate you, though I fear you will find out one of these 
days that the gate of Paradise through which you are now 
passing is but a rainbow, beyond which the world will look 
very much as it did before.” 

And yet there was a suspicious moisture in the sharp 
black eyes, though no one would have denied the fact more 
energetically than Maria Paulowna herself. 

Detlef walked home like one in a dream. Was all this 
really true? Was the beautiful and admired Ferra indeed 
his betrothed? Up to this time, he had always rebelled 
against the idea that the woman he honored with his 
preference should have been wooed by other men, but was 
Ferra accountable for the charm she exercised over all 
hearts? He, too, had been forced to acknowledge its 
power. Had it not made him her abject slave in spite of 
his struggles? They loved each other; loved each other 
like two happy, light-hearted children. If Fate should ever 
bring her brazen hammer crashing down upon them would 
it separate them, or only weld them indissolubly together 
forever? But Detlef did not even ask himself this ques- 
tion. His happiness was so new to him, it seemed such a 
precious gift from heaven, that the slightest doubt seemed 
a sacrilege. She loved him as devotedly as he loved her, 
and true love laughs at obstacles. He even opened his 
arms longingly in the rain and darkness, as Ferra, in her 
simple white gown, and with her shining hair and beautiful 
tender eyes, appeared before his mental vision. 

“Oh! my darling, my darling,” he murmured, tenderly, 
“your pathway through life shall be one of thornless roses 
if I can make it so.” 

The cousins in the Bogdanoff mansion soon separated. 
As Maria Paulowna found it impossible to maintain her 
usually cool and indifferent manner, there was nothing for 
her to do but retire to her own room. As the crafty 


124 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Jacqueline was brushing her mistress’ hair for the night, she 
said, slyly: 

“ How delighted the count seemed when I told him that 
your Highness was not receiving this evening, and that I 
had been obliged to send the prince away. He positively 
looked as if he wanted to hug me.” 

Ferra laughed lightly, and taking a costly bracelet from 
a case on her toilet table, she said: 

“ Here, Jacqueline, keep this in remembrance of a day 
that has brought me great happiness. On my wedding day 
you shall have a dowry that will enable you to marry the 
man of your choice, for it must be very hard not to be able 
to do that.” 

The maid’s vehement protestations of gratitude warmed 
Ferra’s heart. She would have been glad to see the whole 
world happy now that she herself had attained the bliss her 
soul had so long craved. 

“ Detlef, my Detlef,” she murmured, fondly; then sud- 
denly starting up, she exclaimed, “ Did I do wrong not to 
tell him that I was born in the Rue Rochefort? Must I 
tell him to-morrow? He is so peculiar in his ideas about 
some things; he might not take the same view of the matter 
that Constantine did.” 

She buried her face in her hands; the mere thought that 
he might forsake her made her brain reel. Surely she 
loved him as man was never loved before. She had never 
before dreamed of the possibility of so strong a passion. 
Removing her hands from her face, she surveyed herself in 
the mirror, and the consciousness of her wonderful beauty 
comforted her — at first, only partially, but afterward, 
entirely. 

“He loves me, and will love me more and more,” she 
murmured, smiling at the recollection of a little scene when 
a word had brought him back to her feet. This evidence 
of her power pleased her greatly. 

“ Why should I torment him as well as myself by such 
reminiscences? ” she mused. “ His love is certainly stronger 
than his pride. Besides, I am too much of a coward to 
speak of it. He knows that I make no claims to being a 
heroine. After we are married, I will tell him. He will 
have to kiss me then, and forgive me for not telling him 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


125 


before. It really is a matter of very little consequence. I 
mean to be married in white velvet, and have a diamond 
glistening like a dewdrop in each orange blossom. Ah, 
Detlef, you shall be proud of your beautiful wife even 
though — ” 

But dismissing the train of thought thus suggested, she 
again reverted to the subject of her love. 

The blissful present and future were much more attract- 
ive than the gloomy past, and she soon decided that she 
would say nothing to Detlef about it. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

It was with a frowning brow that the prince received his 
adjutant the following morning, when Rommingen, as in 
duty bound, presented himself to apologize for his unprece- 
dentedly long absence the evening before. 

“Unprecedentedly, yes,” repeated the prince, striding 
angrily up and down the room, trying all the while to 
devise some means of discovering whether Rommingen 
had recognized him when he saw him leaving the Bog- 
danoff mansion. 

“ Your Highness will perhaps be more lenient when you 
hear my excuse,” said Detlef, with a faint smile. “ I 
became betrothed to the Princess Arbanoff last evening.” 

“ Betrothed! to the Princess Arbanoff! ” This announce- 
ment very nearly threw the prince off his guard; but recov- 
ering himself just in time, he hastily turned and walked to 
the window, where he stood with his back to his adjutant. 
“Tell me all about it, I am deeply interested. It must 
have been very unexpected.” 

“ Not altogether, your Highness. My betrothed and I 
have loved each other for some time.” 

How proudly he said it. How wonderfully sweet the 
words “my betrothed ” sounded in his ears. 

Prince Dagobert drummed a stormy march upon the 
window-sill with his fingers. 

“Did you — did the Princess Arbanoff tell you that I 
myself called to inquire after her health last evening? ” he 
inquired, at last. 


12G 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“Yes; we both appreciate your great kindness, and are 
deeply grateful for it.” 

Detlef spoke very gravely, not an eyelash quivered. 
Prince Dagobert stepped up to him, seized him by one of 
the buttons of his uniform, and looking him straight in 
the eye, said: 

“ Rommingen, you’re a cunning rascal. You can laugh in 
your sleeve as much as you please, but I am not going to 
make any attempt to conceal the fact that I was des- 
perately smitten with the beautiful princess. Of course, 
that is all over now. You have always been a beloved 
comrade, in spite of a few slight differences of late. You 
understand me, of course. But, knowing your character as 
I do, this short courtship surprises me not a little. Accept 
my congratulations, my heartiest congratulations, Count. 
You and your beautiful betrothed both have my best 
wishes.” And, slapping him on the shoulder, the prince 
added, with a sigh, “ You’re a lucky fellow, a thrice lucky 
fellow, upon my honor you are! ” 

“ I thank you most sincerely, your Highness.” 

“We certainly have reason to be very grateful to you for 
keeping the Princess Arbanoff here,” continued Prince 
Dagobert. “ But what will my honored consort say? Of 
course I must do the handsome thing and dispense with 
your society to-day. Neukirch can come to me in your 
stead. Once more, allow me to congratulate you. Count.” 

The adjutant bowed profoundly. 

“Will your Highness graciously permit me to return to 
the princess the vinaigrette she intrusted to my care last 
evening? ” 

“ Of course, of course, my dear Count, and be sure you 
explain, at the same time, how it became the means of unit- 
ing two loving hearts. It will interest her extremely — 
extremely.” 

Fraulein von Nobbe entered, with eyebrows high 
uplifted, to announce to her mistress that Prince Dago- 
bert’s adjutant was in the anteroom, and desired the honor 
of an audience. This was such an unusual circumstance, 
that the ladies exchanged a look of astonishment, and it 
was with a heightened color that the princess at last gave 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 127 

orders for his admittance. The maid-of-honor discreetly 
retired to a window-niche, and the princess, turning to the 
visitor with a considerable show of interest, inquired: 

“ Have you. anything of special importance to say to me, 
Herr Count? ” 

“ First of all, I wish to return this smelling-bottle to your 
Highness.” 

“ There was no particular haste about that. I supposed 
it was still in the Princess Arbanoff’s possession. Did you 
find an opportunity to give it to her? ” 

“Oh, yes, your Highness; but 1 left her so much better, 
that I felt no hesitation whatever about returning it to 
you.” 

“Then you saw her?” The voice of the princess ex- 
pressed much incredulous astonishment. “ It was very late 
when you called.” 

“ It was, your Highness; but fortune favored me. The 
merest trifles are often momentous in their effects. 
Thanks to your Highness’ kindness in making me your 
messenger, I am able to ask your Highness’ congratulations 
upon my betrothal to the Princess Arbanoff.” 

Detlef was prepared for an exclamation of astonishment, 
but the effect of his announcement startled him. The 
princess sprang to her feet, clutching the edge of a buhl 
table, as if for support, while a deathlike pallor overspread 
her features. 

“Impossible! ” she gasped. 

“Impossible, your Highness?” There was such a mani- 
fest warning in the question, that it recalled the princess to 
her senses. Passing her handkerchief over her face, and 
drawing a long breath, she said: 

“ Your news took me by surprise. I was not in the least 
prepared for it.” 

“Has your Highness no congratulations for me?” 

“ No,” she answered, curtly, turning partially away from 
him, “ for I can see no possible happiness for you in such 
a union. I have always considered you a true man in the 
highest sense of the word; I think so still, though I see 
you bowing in blind adoration before beauty, and outward 
beauty alone.” 

She spoke hurriedly, drawing nearer to him all the while. 


128 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


Detlef was greatly astonished; in fact, he felt both 
annoyed and embarrassed by her remark. 

“Are you not rather severe, your Highness?” 

“I will hope so for your sake. But beauty is a doubtful 
boon, in my opinion; it departs, leaving, in most cases, a 
melancholy void behind. Still, I will not withhold a wish that 
the future will prove that I have been mistaken in regard to 
many things, and that I have been too severe a jud^'ife. 
May you find in the Princess Arbanoff every trait you hav'C 
prized most highly in women up to the present time. May 
you be happy! ” 

“ I feel confident that I shall be, your Highness.” 

She extended her hand, and he raised it to his lips, 
though his heart revolted against this act of homage, after 
the words that had just passed between them; but his 
experience in court life had taught him the necessity of 
concealing his real feelings. The Princess Sibylle had 
entirely recovered her accustomed composure now, and it 
was in her usually cold and measured tones that she added: 

“ Present my kind regards to Frau von Bogdanoff, as 
well as to your betrothed.” 

Detlef left the castle, a prey to conflicting emotions. 
The words of the princess echoed and re-echoed most 
unpleasantly in his ears. A loving glance from Ferra 
would suffice to dispel the clouds, but just at that moment 
he felt strangely depressed in spirits. He had supposed 
that the news of his betrothal would please the princess, 
but he found that he was mistaken, though he little sus- 
pected the real cause of her displeasure. 

“What do you think of it, Amanda? ” asked the princess, 
turning herself in her chair so that her confidante could 
not see her face. 

“I am astounded, your Highness.’ 

“ I credited Rommingen with much more prudence and 
discrimination.” 

“Bah! he is only a man after all, your Highness,” 
remarked Fraulein von Nobbe, in tones of withering con- 
tempt. 

When the princess again found herself alone, she dashed 
the vinaigrette on the floor with all her might. 

“ It is a shame, an outragous shame! ” she hissed, between 


THE FLOWER GIRL OP PARIS, 


120 


her set teeth. “ Must it be.’ ” and wringing her hands 
wildly, she burst into a paroxysm of sobs. 

The whole town was greatly excited by the news, which 
spread like wildfire through all classes of society that took any 
interest in the doings of the court. Eustace von Deuren 
embraced his friend rapturously, and assured him that he 
knew of nothing that could have given him gfeater pleas- 
ure, tb^ the tongues of scandal mongers were now effectually 
silence'd, and that he should henceforth regard the Princess 
Arbanoff as hisbestand dearest friend, and constitute himself 
her champion on all occasions. These hearty congratulations 
touched Rommingen deeply, and he was all the more 
grateful for them from the fact that he knew Eustace had 
not escaped Ferra’s charms unscathed, and that complete 
unconsciousness and indifference on the lady’s part had 
alone prevented him from proposing to her. 

‘‘ And you will promise not to be jealous, no matter how 
devoted I am to her?” asked the youth, frankly. “A 
quarrel with you, Detlef — why no woman on earth is worth 
that to me! ” 

“Never, my boy,” replied the adjutant, smiling; “on the 
contrary, I beg you will bestow upon her a portion of the 
friendship with which you honor me.” 

“I have done that already,” answered the delighted 
hussar, nearly shaking Rommingen ’s hand off in his enthu- 
siasm; “and now, Detlef, you are to understand, once for 
all, that we are friends henceforth and forever.” 

“Have you heard the latest news?” asked Erdmann von 
Nobbe that same evening at the club. “ A lucky dog that 
Rommingen is, a confoundedly lucky dog. He is about to 
marry twenty millions, think of it.” 

“ You mean to say that he is to marry the Princess 
Arbanoff,” interrupted Deuren, his face flushing angrily. 

The tall lieutenant gave him an insolent look. 

“I stand corrected; of course 1 mean — the Princess 
Arbanoff. Still, twenty millions is not an unpleasant 
appendage, even when one’s prospective bride is as beauti- 
ful as the little Russian.” 

“ Rommingen has money enough of his own,” remarked 
another club man. 


130 


THE FLOWER GIRL OP PARIS. 


“ Still it won’t grieve him much to double it; I am sure I 
should be glad enough to do it if I had a chance. The 
good things of this world are certainly very unequally 
divided,” added the lieutenant, with a dry, sneering laugh, 
as he dropped his eye-glass and lighted a cigarette. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Late in the winter, the Princess Sibylle celebrated her 
birthday amid a small circle of particular friends. All the 
apartments in “ Scarecrow Row ” were thrown open on this 
occasion, and the invitations were issued by the princess 
herself through Fraulein von Nobbe. Frau von Bogdanoff 
was too influential a personage to be slighted, so she and 
her guest had necessarily been included in the invitations. 

The wild blasts of an equinoctial storm had been shriek- 
ing and howling all day over the roofs and through the 
houses, and the storm seemed to rage with special violence 
in the immediate vicinity of the royal castle, as the princess 
stood at the drawing-room window gazing out at the leaf- 
less trees, whose branches writhed as if in mortal agony 
beneath the fury of the gale. 

Before the other window stood a tastefully arranged 
table of elegant birthday gifts. The reigning duke had 
sent some costly presents in bronze and majolica, and 
Prince Dagobert had presented his wife with several hand- 
some pieces of jewelry, though the princess had often 
frankly expressed her distaste for articles of personal 
adornment. 

The official congratulations were over. Prince Dagobert 
had immediately moved away after kissing his wife’s hand, 
and murmuring his good wishes, while she coldly thanked 
him for his gifts. She knew only too well that he had just 
seen them for the first time, if, indeed, he had even taken 
the trouble to glance at them. The mistress of the robes 
and the faithful Nobbe had purchased them at his request, 
after consulting with their royal mistress as to what the 
gifts were to be. 

No loving thought had been bestowed upon them; 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARTS. 


131 


no one of them was accompanied by a heartfelt wish for 
her happiness; no one of them had been intended as a 
pleasant surprise. Propriety required that they should be 
there, and the requirements of propriety had been fulfilled; 
that was all. Nevertheless, the princess had eagerly 
inspected the contents of the table, nervously disarranging 
the various articles as if hunting for something. At last 
she remarked to the Countess Lenheim, the mistress of the 
robes: 

“You have arranged all the articles very tastefully, my 
dear Countess, but pray see that you have forgotten noth- 
ing, for you know the prince is sometimes a little careless 
about such matters.” 

“I am delighted to have won your Highness’ approval. 
No, nothing has been forgotten. The prince gave seven 
pieces of jewelry. Here they are.” 

Sibylle’s brow darkened ominously as she said, coldly, 
“Too many by far. All useless, my dear Countess. Out- 
ward adornments are of slight importance in comparison 
with mental worth.” 

The magnificent suite of rooms seemed cold and cheerless 
that evening in spite of their rich decorations and hundreds 
of lights. It was impossible for one to feel at ease there; 
at least, Ferra thought so as she passed through them, lean- 
ing on the arm of her betrothed, on her way to the apart- 
ment in which the princess was waiting to receive her 
guests. 

Tea was served in this room, where seats were provided 
only for the ladies, the gentlemen standing about promis- 
cuously, with their cups in their hands. Fraulein von 
Nobbe, who presided at the tea table, was conversing with 
her brother in subdued tones, while the artist Laudin, 
whom the princess had graciously invited, stood a little 
apart from the others, watching Ferra, who was chatting 
gaily with Detlef and Eustace von Deuren, while the prince 
entertained some members of the diplomatic corps in an 
adjoining room. 

Sibylle’s eyes rested on the three handsome young 
people near her, with a lowering expression, but this changed 
to one of keen interest as she noticed, among the bracelets 
on the wrist of the hand which Ferra laid on Detlef’s arm 


132 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


to attract his attention, a hoop of large and magnificent 
diamonds, which emitted such flashes of many-colored light 
as to almost dazzle one. The longer the princess gazed at 
it, the paler she became. At last, biting her lips viciously, 
she set down her teacup, and walked straight up to the 
little group. 

“ Will you allow me to examine that bracelet, madame? ” 
she said, coldly. ‘‘ The ornament seems to be as unique as 
it is costly.” 

Terra rose and tried to unclasp the bracelet, but failing 
in the attempt she hastily turned to her betrothed, and 
holding out her arm, said, “ Unclasp it for me, Detlef, 
please.” 

At that very instant. Prince Dagobert appeared in the 
doorway and beckoned to his adjutant, who laid the costly 
trinket in Terra’s hand before obeying the summons. 

“Here it is, your Highness.” 

Sibylle’s cheeks were strangely flushed as she bent her 
head to examine the ornament. The clasp was a wonder- 
fully executed representation of the head of the sphinx, the 
Egyptian head-dress being composed of a host of tiny dia- 
monds. 

“ It is evidently as costly as it is beautiful,” remarked 
the princess. “ You must have paid a terrible price for it, 
madame.” 

As she uttered these words she looked Terra full in the 
face. 

“ I really know very little about the intrinsic value of 
such things, your Highness,” the latter replied, at last, 
with some embarrassment. 

“ If it was a present,” continued the princess, “ the 
giver should indeed be a Prince Arbanoff; a husband of 
fabulous wealth.” 

“ I really had no idea that it was so extremely valuable, 
your Highness. I have so many handsome ornaments — ” 

“Still that would hardly prevent one from being more 
valuable in your eyes than another, if it w’ere only for the 
sake of the giver,” said the princess, meaningly. “ Ask 
Count Rommingen what he thinks the ornament is worth, 
and then watch his face.” 

With another Medusa-like look, the princess walked 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


13a 


away, leaving Ferra standing quite alone, for Eustace was 
chatting with some other lady, and Detlef had not returned. 
A feeling of distress, a vague foreboding, suddenly assailed 
Ferra. The bracelet was still in her hand, and it seemed 
to burn her like fire. For one moment she racked her 
brain to try and discover if the words of the princess held 
any covert meaning; the next she felt a wild desire to hurl 
the trinket from her and fly to Detlef’s side. 

“ What, alone, your Highness, and so sad,” exclaimed 
Erdmann von Nobbe’s nasal voice, as his tall angular form 
suddenly loomed up beside her. “ Everything seems to go 
wrong this evening. The princess is out of sorts, and 
everybody looks bored. Allow me, your Highness.” 

He offered his arm, and Ferra, who had not the slightest 
suspicion that he had been watching her for some time, 
accepted it. 

“I should like to find my cousin,” she said, hastily, 
instinctively seeking protection. 

“You will find her in the third room on the right. But 
may I not first be allowed to assist you in replacing your 
bracelet? ” 

She still held the ornament in her hand, undecided 
what to do with it. Just at that moment she perceived 
Sibylle’s eyes fixed upon her with such an expression of 
bitter hatred and contempt that her distress instantly 
changed into fiery anger and indignation. A smile of 
defiance curved her red lips as she returned the glance, and 
with head proudly erect she again clasped the bracelet on 
her arm. If there was to be war between them, well and 
good. She was ready to throw down the gauntlet at her 
adversary’s feet. The feeling of dislike with which the 
princess had inspired her from the first was transformed 
into one of intense hatred, and yielding to a hasty impulse, 
as she was, alas! always too prone to do, she remarked to 
her companion, who was watching her with a sarcastic 
smile on his face: 

“ I wish the evening were over, I hate this place.” 

The costly lace that adorned her train had caught on 
the corner of a chair. With a sudden jerk she abruptly 
tore it loose, and with rage and defiance in her heart went 
and aeated herself by Frau von Bogdanoff, who was in 


134 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


another room, surrounded by a little court, which Von 
Nobbe also joined. 

Meanwhile Detlef, who had been sent by the prince to 
fetch some important document from the other wing of the 
castle, had returned, and now stood awaiting further orders. 
But Prince Dagobert said, with much consideration: 

“ I will not be so cruel as to keep you from your beauti- 
ful betrothed any longer, my dear Rommingen. She gave 
me anything but a friendly glance just now, so pray return 
to her at once.” 

When Detlef hastened back to the room where he had 
left Ferra, he found that she was no longer there, and he 
was about to start in pursuit of her when the princess 
approached him. 

“ Can you spare me a moment of your time, Count? ” 

“ I am entirely at your Highness’ service.” 

“Thanks; then pray accompany me to my boudoir and 
help me select a place for these superb bronzes. I know 
and appreciate your wonderfully good taste in such matters.” 

She made the request as if it were the most trivial and 
commonplace thing in the world, and accepted the arm he 
promptly offered in the same careless, indifferent way. 

Detlef, though greatly astonished, as the princess had 
never before seemed to attach any value to his opinions in 
art matters, could only obey. The princess talked rather 
more loudly and excitedly than usual as they passed 
through the rooms thronged with guests. When they 
reached the boudoir, she dropped the portiere with her own 
hand; then, as if conscious that they would probably be 
alone only for a few moments, and perhaps only for a few 
seconds, she drew a long breath, and hastily said: 

“ I wish to talk with you upon an entirely different sub- 
ject than the arrangement of bronzes. Count. Be seated, 
please.” 

She pointed as she spoke to a low ottoman near her. As 
Detlef obeyed her behest, he saw very plainly that she 
found it no easy task to say what she wished to say. Her 
face was crimson with suppressed emotion, and her voice 
had a smothered sound as she asked: 

“ Have you noticed a bracelet that the Princess Arbanoff 
is wearing to-night? ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


135 


“ The one I unclasped for my betrothed to show to your 
Highness? ” 

“ The same.” 

“ Is there anything so very remarkable about it? ” asked 
Detlef, ready to assume the defensive at once. 

“ I fear you will be angry with me for what I am about 
to say,” she remarked, as if wavering a little. “ As a rule, 
we are never grateful to the bearers of unpleasant news.” 

“You must permit me to say to your Highness that you 
have gone too far to hesitate now.” 

The adjutant’s voice had an almost dictatorial tone, and 
there was an ominous frown upon his brow. 

“ Nor will I hesitate. You shall know all, all. Count — 
and you can then judge for yourself. That bracelet was 
presented to the Princess Arbanoff by my husband.” 

“Impossible!” 

Detlef started as if he had received a sudden blow; then 
recovering his self-control by a violent effort, he added, 
“ There must be some mistake, your Highness. You have 
been deceived by some chance resemblance.” 

“ Do you suppose I would have spoken if I were not 
sure? ” she exclaimed, bitterly. 

“Then I must beg your Highness to enlighten me 
further.” Detlef’s voice sounded cold and constrained, but 
it seemed to him that the princess must hear the wild throb- 
bing of his heart as it sent his blood surging madly 
through his veins. 

“ Three days ago I chanced to see this same bracelet on 
my husband’s desk, but supposing, very naturally, that he 
intended to present it to me on my birthday, I said nothing. 
It was not among my gifts, however, and this evening I see 
it on the Princess Arbanoff’s arm. The design is so rare 
and unique that any mistake is entirely out of the ques- 
tion.” 

“And you dare to assert that the Princess Arbanoff 
receives presents from Prince Dagobert? ” demanded the 
adjutant, almost beside himself with rage. 

“ The Princess Arbanoff, your betrothed! It does seem 
incomprehensible,” responded the princess, sarcastically. 
“ An actress might accept such presents without exciting 


136 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


much comment, but when a lady of wealth and high social 
position — ” 

“ Say no more, your Highness; say no more, I beg of you,” 
interposed Detlef. “ There must be some mistake. My 
betrothed can explain it all satisfactorily, I am sure, in 
the twinkling of an eye.” 

He passed his hand over his forehead. It was as hot 
as fire, and his lips felt dry and parched. 

“ How he must love that woman! ” the princess said to 
herself, seeing how intensely he was suffering; but there 
was no mercy in her heart. 

“Will your Highness excuse me now. I wish to speak 
with my betrothed! ” 

She laid a detaining hand on his arm. 

“ Not yet; wait a few minutes, until you have become 
more calm. Every one would be sure to notice your agita- 
tion now, and you certainly do not desire that. Is it not 
enough that we must bear our own burdens; surely, there is 
no need to give people an opportunity to gloat over our 
sufferings.” 

“ I thank your Highness for your timely warning,” 
murmured Detlef, biting his lower lip until it bled. 

“ Oh, I have to think of all these things,” said the prin- 
cess, with a melancholy smile; “ and before you go, Count, 
give me your hand as an assurance that you bear me no ill 
will. In telling you what I have, I have been prompted 
solely by the desire to do you a service. There are things 
which are really much less culpable than they seem to be, 
but which cast a stain upon a man’s good name if they 
become known to the world, and I will not-— do you hear 
me — I will not have your good name thus defamed! ” 

She had risen, and was now holding Detlef’s hand firmly 
clasped in hers. Detlef stooped and pressed his lips upon 
the hand that held his. 

“ Such unexpected manifestations of fickleness and fri- 
volity wound the heart deeply. Count,” she said, laying 
her other hand on his, as if to console him. “ Never 
condone such an offense. Count. You are a man, and 
have the power to call the delinquent to account; a woman 
can only endure in silence. Go now, I hear some one 
coming.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. lo7 

With a silent bow, the adjutant left the apartment — a 
gloomy frown upon his brow. Then, for the first time, the 
princess perceived that the china ornament she had been 
playing with — a tiny Psyche of Meissen porcelain — was 
lying in fragments at her feet, its delicate wings severed 
from its body by its fall. 

“Wings are suited only to the inhabitants of the stars,” 
thought the princess, bitterl}^, as she gazed down upon the 
shattered toy. “We must be better armed for the battle 
of life here below.” 

The sound of footsteps had died awtiy. d'he person she 
had heard approaching probably supposed that the boudoir 
was unoccupied, but did not take the trouble to ascertain 
for a certainty, so the princess had a few more minutes to 
herself. Sinking into a chair, she closed her eyes, and as 
she listened to the wind wailing drearily outside, she said 
to herself, again and again; “ What will he do? What will 
he do? ” 

Detlef retraversed the rooms as slowly and deliberately 
as when he had the princess on his arm, but every step 
seemed an effort. A fierce tempest was raging in the 
proud man’s soul. What the princess had just told him 
was a direct accusation against the being he loved most 
on earth. He felt a wild desire to proclaim his belief that 
though his love might have acted thoughtlessly, she had 
never done anything that was really wrong. But why, oh 
why, had she not consulted him before accepting this brace- 
let from the prince? He certainly had a right to act as her 
adviser, and he was not in the least inclined to relinquish 
this right. 

The more he reflected, the more thoroughly convinced 
he became that Prince Dagobert was the only real culprit. 
How dared the prince make his — Rommingen’s — betrothed 
such a present unknown to him. Possibly Frau von Bog- 
danoff, too, knew nothing about it. And why had not Ferra 
frankly admitted to the princess that the bracelet was a 
present from her husband? “ God knows, I am neither sus- 
picious nor jealous by nature,” he said to himself. Nor 
was he, but he was extremely sensitive in all matters that 
affected his honor and reputation. He was naturally a 
rather stern, as well as just, man, and as he could not but 


138 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


censure deeply every one involved in this affair, he felt 
strongly inclined to say so then and there. While love and 
wounded pride were thus struggling for the mastery in his 
breast, he heard Ferra’s gay, musical laugh in an adjoining 
room, and the sound only increased his irritation. Perhaps 
she was even now jesting with the prince. The mere thought 
of such a thing made his brain reel. The princess was 
right, he must control himself. But though he fully realized 
the necessity of doing so, he hastily stepped forward and 
raised the costly portiere. Ferra was standing directly in 
front of a large mantel mirror; both hands were uplifted to 
her head, thus displaying her lithe, graceful figure to the 
very best advantage. In one hand she held a small pair of 
scissors and in the other a red-gold curl, already partially 
severed from her head. Seeing Detlef’s form reflected in 
the mirror, she half turned her lovely face toward him. 
Frau von Bogdanoff, Neukirch, Von Nobbe, Laudin, and 
several others were standing by, looking on, but no one 
except Ferra and the tall lieutenant had noticed Rommin- 
gen’s entrance. Ferra smiled at him without desisting from 
her occupation. The idea that her lover might object to it 
evidently never once occurred to her. 

But Detlef stood as if petrified, so great was his conster- 
nation. With such a tempest still raging in his soul, he 
was even more inclined to censure any violation of the 
proprieties than usual. The attitude of his betrothed and 
the evident amusement of the bystanders led him to believe 
that something of that kind was now going on, and this 
suspicion excited his wrath anew. 

Meanwhile, the scissors had completed their work of 
destruction, and Ferra held up the severed lock with an 
air of triumph. 

“ You see I keep my promises,” she said, gaily, extending 
it to the painter. “ Ah! if I could only gratify all my own 
wishes as easily — ” 

At that very instant, she felt a cold, firm grasp upon her 
hand, and saw Rommingen standing beside her a trifle 
paler than usual. 

“Will you not permit me to know something about this 
interesting transaction before you conclude it, Ferra? ” he 
asked, lightly; nevertheless, there was something in his tone 
that made her turn and ga2;e at him in wonder. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


139 


“ By and by,” she answered, a little piqued, for his firm 
grasp on her hand irritated her. 

“ No, now, if you please. It is scarcely wise or prudent 
to gratify one’s every wish.” He tried hard to speak jest- 
ingly, but lamentably failed in the attempt. 

“ Her highness is only doing her duty to humanity in 
general,” interposed Von Nobbe, for each and every one 
present could not help seeing that Rommingen was inclined 
to take the matter very seriously. 

“I am very grateful to you for the information,” 
retorted Detlef, over his shoulder; “ but Madame Arbanoff’s 
explanation will quite content me.” 

“He spoke the truth,” cried Maria Paulowna, shrilly. 
“Don’t attempt to play the tyrant, Rommingen.” 

“This rare shade is well worthy of an artist’s brush, as 
Count von Rommingen will certainly be the first to testify,” 
interposed Neukirch; then leaning over the back of Frau 
von Bogdanoff’s chair, he whispered, “ What an absurd 
fuss about a mere trifle! ” 

Ferra was silent, even when Laudin dropped the hand he 
had extended, and, blushing deeply, said: “I must, of 
course, submit entirely to your decision, Herr Count, 
but her highness merely intended to enable me, by means 
of this lock of hair, to complete a picture upon which I 
have founded great hopes — far greater than any one else 
can imagine — and which needs only this shade of hair to 
make the principal figure perfect.” 

Without being really conscious of it, the artist had 
spoken in an almost imploring tone. Detlef felt that every 
eye was upon him; so after an instant’s hesitation he man- 
aged to say, with a tolerably fair semblance of composure: 

“I was merely desirous of having my curiosity gratified. 
Of course I have no wish to hinder my betrothed in her 
good work; only, let me ask you to return the lock of hair 
when you have no further use for it. Of course, I am 
loath to relinquish my right, even to the possession of such 
a trifle.” 

“ I pledge you my word that I will,” answered Laudin, 
earnestly. 

“I have begged him, time and time again, to make his 
Helen a blonde, but artists are such frightfully obstinate 


140 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS, 


creatures,” remarked Von Nobbe, secretly exulting over 
Rommingen’s discomfiture. 

The two lovers found themselves alone shortly after- 
ward, Ferra had seated herself on a low divan that 
extended around three sides of the room, and Rommingen 
stood gloomily gazing at her. She yawned a little, and 
looked away, tapping the floor nervously with her foot the 
while. The diamonds in the sphinx bracelet sparkled 
brilliantly. A profound silence pervaded the room, and 
the faint flush in Terra’s cheek deepened to an angry crim- 
son. At last she could endure the feeling of constraint no 
longer, and, springing up, she approached her lover. 

“ What is the meaning of this, Detlef? ” she demanded, 
angrily. 

“ You ask me that? ” he retorted, equally agitated. “ Do 
)^ou suppose I can look on in quiet content while my 
betrothed gives a lock of her hair to another man? ” 

“Can it be that you are jealous?” Her voice had lost 
every vestige of petulance. 

“Jealous, no! It annoys me because it seems to me 
such a flagrant violation of the laws of delicacy and good 
breeding.” 

She started back, as if he had struck her, and turned as 
pale as death. 

“ Detlef! ” she cried. 

He bit his lip, but said never a word. 

“ Do you really mean that? ” she faltered. 

“ How can I feel otherwise, when my betrothed wife also 
accepts presents from — ” 

“What do you mean, Detlef?” she asked, wonderingly. 

“Where did you get that bracelet?” he demanded, 
almost crushing her delicate wrist in his vise-like grasp. 

“You hurt me,” she gasped, and there was such abject 
terror and such a world of entreaty in her tone that his 
wrath abated a little. 

“Was it from the prince? ” he continued, hoarsely, wait- 
ing for her answer as if his very life depended upon it. 

“Yes,” she replied, looking up at him with frightened 
eyes. “ He brought it to me this morning.” 

“And you took it? You could do such a thing as that, 
and grieve me so? ” 


THE FLOWER GlkL OF PARIS. 


141 


She shivered, as if with a fit of ague. 

“ I do not understand you. Why should you be dis- 
pleased, Detlef?” Then, receiving no answer, she added, 
imploringly: “O Detlef, Detlef, have I really done any- 
thing so very dreadful? ” 

“You do not seem able to understand,” he retorted, bit- 
terly. “ It is that which so appalls me. Have you really no 
conception of — of the — ” disgrace, he was about to say, 
but seeing her standing there so wretched, and yet so 
uncomprehending, his heart failed him, and he said instead, 
“ of the pain you cause me? ” 

“No,” she answered, in honest astonishment. “The 
prince brought me the bracelet this morning. He saw it a 
few days ago when he was selecting his birthday gifts for 
the princess, and he presented it to me as a substitute for 
one of mine that he accidentally trod upon and crushed 
while we were dancing. I took it, not that I cared for it, 
for I have more than enough of such ornaments, but I did 
not like to offend him, for he has always been very kind to 
me. You never object to my accepting flowers. What is 
the difference? ” 

Detlef fairly gasped for breath. It was almost impos- 
sible for him to realize that Ferra did not take the same 
view of this matter that he did. How could she accept 
flowers and diamonds with the same indifference? She 
certainly could not possess that innate delicacy he had 
always considered an indispensable attribute of every high- 
born woman; as essentially a part of her nature, in fact, 
as fragrance is to a flower; but it was equally apparent to 
him that Ferra had really been innocent of any thought of 
evil. 

“Why do you not speak, Detlef? ” she asked, impatiently, 
looking him full in the face. 

“Because I can not understand the view you take of this 
matter.” 

“If you expect to see any great value attached to such 
ornaments, they must be given to some other person than 
me,” she exclaimed, petulantly. “ I suppose there are 
women who go into ecstasies over such things. I care 
nothing at all about them.” 

“But why did you not tell the princess that the bracelet 
was a present from her husband? ” 


142 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


He sat down beside her, and taking her fan from her 
hand, began to play with it. She blushed deeply. 

“That is a very different thing. I have a feeling that 
she is all the time watching me, with argus eyes, and that 
nothing I say or do escapes her. She hates me, too; I 
know it.” 

“That is saying a little too much, Ferra. The princess 
may be rather bigoted in her ideas, but she means well. 
One should respect the honest convictions of others, even 
if one does not share them.” 

“You take the princess’ part, even against me?” she 
asked, hastily. 

He sighed. “ I wish I could convert you to my way of 
thinking. Oh! child, have you never reflected that such 
thoughtless acts as the acceptance of a bracelet and the 
bestowal of a lock of hair might be misinterpreted? ” 

She laughed merrily. 

“ Do you suppose I care what these people say of me? 
Detlef, dear, I don’t aspire to be faultless, like your Ger- 
man women — a personification of all the virtues; in short, 
I am as I am. Tell me, is what I say so very dreadful? ” 

She glanced archly up at him, with those bewitching, 
bewildering eyes of hers — eyes imbued with a charm 
which no other woman’s eyes had ever possessed for him — 
and he trembled at her power. 

“ But you should have some consideration for me,” he 
said, sadly, looking steadily down at the fan, in order to 
avoid her gaze. “You expose me to unpleasant sus- 
picions, too, and that annoys me very much. The princess 
knows all about the bracelet.” 

“What of that?” she exclaimed, with a scornful curl 
of the lip. “ It doesn’t make a particle of difference to me.” 

“But it does to me. She censured me for permitting 
your acceptance of such a gift, and I can not bear that the 
slightest shadow of suspicion should fall upon the fair 
fame of the woman who will some day be my wife.” 

Ferra’s head drooped, her bosom rose and fell stormily, 
and big hot tears streamed down her cheeks and fell 
upon her clasped hands. Detlef gazed at her in silence 
for a moment. At last, he could endure it no longer; 
her tears grieved him to the heart. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


143 


“Don’t cry, don’t cry!” he exclaimed, beseechingly, 
putting his arm around her, and secretly anathematizing 
himself for his harshness. 

“ You will never care for me again after this,” she 
sobbed. 

He took her hand, and kissed it tenderly. “Is it neces- 
sary for me to assure you to the contrary, Ferra? ” he 
asked, falteringly. 

She cast a sly glance around the deserted room, then 
hastily threw her arms around his neck, “ I will return the 
bracelet, my dear Detlef, but what shall I do about the 
curl? Laudin begged so hard for it, and Pussy seemed to 
think there was no harm in my giving it to him. But tell 
me what you wish me to do, and I will gladly do it.” 

Her face shone like sunshine now, and, springing up, she 
hastily dried her eyes, and surveyed herself in the mirror. 

“ Will any one see that I have been crying? No, Detlef, 
they shall not think you a tyrant; though Constantine” 
(here she gave a little sigh) “ was much more indulgent 
to me.” 

“Ah! I’m disturbing a delightful tete-a-tete, I fear!” 
exclaimed Prince Dagobert, suddenly appearing in the 
doorway. 

“ Hardly, your Highness; he has been scolding me as no 
man ever scolded me before.” 

“You’re a barbarian, Rommingen! What can your 
beautiful betrothed have done that you should so abuse 
her? Beautiful women are always in the right.” 

“Then the other party must be doubly culpable, your 
Highness,” the adjutant retorted, boldly. 

“And who may the other party be?” Prince Dagobert 
seemed to detect something peculiar in the speaker’s tone, 
and looked at him inquiringly. 

“ The giver of this bracelet, your Highness.” 

“ Indeed; ah, indeed! ” Prince Dagobert twirled his long 
mustache nervously. “ It was really a very trivial matter, 
though, I assure you. I owed the princess a bracelet as an 
equivalent for one I ruined by my awkwardness, and it was 
accepted precisely as it was given.” 

“ I have not the slightest doubt of that, your Highness. 
But may this not give others a right — ” 


144 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS, 


“What Others?” interrupted the prince, haughtily, for 
the situation was becoming decidedly disagreeable, and 
Detlef showed no disposition to help him out of it. 

“ Her highness, the princess, for example.” 

Prince Dagobert shrugged his shoulders; an embarrass- 
ing pause ensued. 

“This is a case of ‘much ado about nothing,’ it strikes 
one,” he remarked, at last, rather nervously. “ I am 
exceedingly sorry to have caused you this annoyance, 
madame.” 

Ferra had removed the bracelet from her arm, and was 
now holding it gingerly between two fingers as if afraid it 
would burn her. 

“ May I take the liberty of returning it to your High- 
ness?” she asked, timidly. 

“As you make the request, I must, of course, yield.” 

He took the ornament, and thrust it carelessly into his 
breast-pocket. “ The thought that it has at least adorned 
your beautiful arm for a few hours must console me for my 
disappointment, I suppose,” he added, gallantly. 

It also afforded him some slight consolation, doubtless, to 
ignore the presence of Rommingen, who stood silently by, 
as he kissed Ferra’s hand, and then left the room. 

“ Are you quite satisfied now? ” asked Ferra. “ You will 
make me almost afraid of you, Detlef!” 

“We have done the best we could under the circum- 
stances, but I must beg you to be very careful in future, 
or — ” 

“Oh, Caesar, thou hast spoken! ” cried Maria Paulowna, 
suddenly approaching the pair. “ What now? I think 
you’ll find that you superior beings will have to submit to 
the will of your sovereign lady just like ordinary men. 
Come, Ferra, 1 want to introduce you to an old acquaint- 
ance of mine who is very naturally anxious to meet you, 
as I have been extolling your charms in the most enthu- 
siastic manner.” 

With a laugh and a slight grimace at Rommingen, she 
took her cousin away. Detlef stood and watched them as 
they left the room. He was strangely depressed in spirits. 
His wonted equanimity had been rudely disturbed, and 
he felt out of sorts with himself, and with the world in 
general. The more completely his love gained the 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


145 


mastery over him — and he knew perfectly well that it grew 
stronger every day — the more deeply these petty annoy- 
ances rankled. He was continually endeavoring to find 
excuses for the indiscretions of which his betrothed was 
guilty, and yet, up to this time, he had regarded it as a 
foregone conclusion, that the woman whom he made his 
wife would pass through life in spotless purity, untouched 
by any breath of scandal. 

Meanwhile, Maria Paulowna had conducted her cousin to 
the room in which the princess was again sitting, sur- 
rounded by her devoted friends. She seemed perfectly 
calm now, and when she saw from a distance that the 
sphinx bracelet no longer encircled Ferra’s arm, a smile of 
triumph flitted over her lips. The adjutant had evidently 
taken her advice, for Mme. Arbanoff looked rather 
depressed. A single glance sufficed to convince the princess 
of this fact, for she was an adept in the art of reading faces; 
then with a gracious wave of the hand she dismissed a gen- 
tleman who was standing in front of her, and whose eyes, as 
he turned away, naturally fell upon the two Russian ladies 
advancing toward him. 

He started, as if he had received an electric shock, on 
beholding them, but he had his features under such perfect 
control that not a muscle of his face quivered, though a 
keen observer might have noticed that a fiery gleam seemed 
to dart out from beneath his drooping eyelids. 

When Ferra perceived him, she paused and uttered a low 
cry, at the same time clutching her companion’s arm with a 
violence that made the little Russian wince. 

“What is the matter? ” exclaimed Frau von Bogdanoff, 
much astonished. 

Ferra pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and struggled 
hard to recover her composure. 

“ You present yourself at a rather inopportune moment. 
Viscount,” remarked Maria Paulowna; “my cousin seems 
to have been suddenly taken ill.” 

“I feel much better now,” stammered Ferra, but the 
deathlike pallor of her cheek belied her words. 

“Then permit me to introduce Viscount Leroy, a bearer 
of dispatches from the French Republic; an old friend of 
my family.” 

10 


146 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“And more especially of this representative of it, I am 
proud to say,” added Leroy, bowing low. “ Need I say 
that I rejoice to at last have an opportunity to pay my 
respects to the Princess Arbanoff?” 

Leroy’s words and tone and manner were all character- 
ized by the most formal politeness, nor was there the 
slightest sign of recognition in the look he bestowed on 
Ferra, and yet she knew perfectly well that he was thinking, 
at that very moment, of the luxurious little palace in Paris; 
of Achilles and Clarisse, and the past she had believed 
dead and buried. Although she was conscious of a feeling 
of gratitude toward him for meeting her as a stranger, the 
aversion she had felt for him in days gone by became 
stronger than ever. The arm that lay in Maria Paulowna’s 
trembled violently, and she was unable to utter a word. 

“ You are becoming dreadfully nervous,” remarked that 
lady, impatiently. “ I’ve noticed the fact several times 
since your betrothal.” 

Ferra sank into the nearest chair. It seemed to her that 
she was standing on the brink of an unfathomable abyss. 
Detlef! what would Detlef say if he should learn what 
Leroy knew? Her anguish of mind made conversation an 
impossibility. She was not even aware that Frau von 
Bogdanoff had moved away to speak to an acquaintance, 
until she felt Leroy’s breath on her cheek, and heard him 
say in an undertone: 

“ I deserve your thanks, I trust. Princess. There are 
things which it is best to ignore and forget. No one here 
is aware of your former residence in Paris. I hope you 
will believe me your devoted friend, and treat me as such,” 
he added. 

“ May I really count upon your silence? ” 

“ Can you doubt it? What would I not do for you, 
madame, if I might only be allowed.” 

A shadow flitted over Ferra’s face. Leroy’s voice and 
glance affected her as unpleasantly now as on the occasion 
when he attempted to make love to her in the Arbanoff 
palace. Had he any intention of trying to assume the 
r61e of a lover now? AVas that the reason he had volun- 
teered to keep silence in regard to her past? 

On again beholding her, the. passion Anatole Leroy had 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


147 


conceived for her in Paris, when he saw her for the first 
time in Achilles’ dimly lighted study after her return 
from the convent, awoke into new life, though under an 
entirely different form. The defenseless, unsophisticated 
Ferra of days gone by had seemed an easy conquest, but 
this beautiful and wealthy Princess Arbanoff would make 
him a charming wife. True, she had a lover whom she 
perhaps loved in return, but what of that. He, Leroy, 
knew her secret, and this knowledge gave him a power over 
her which he intended to use to the uttermost. He had seen 
a good deal of the world since they parted, but he had 
never met a woman who charmed him like Ferra, and 
he was resolved to win her, cost what it might. Ferra was 
conscious of the ardor of his look, and, turning to him with 
a frown, she asked, sharply, and without making any effort 
to conceal her dislike: 

“What brings you to D ? ” 

Leroy smiled. “ I am stationed here; but I have been 
enjoying a few months’ leave, which has just expired. But 
permit me to ask just one question. How is Achilles? 
Pardon this allusion to the past. There is no one near us 
to overhear it. I take it for granted that my old friend has 
ceased to cherish any ill-will against his charming step- 
mother? ” 

“ I do not know.” 

She would have preferred not to answer, but forced her- 
self to do it. An expression of relief flitted over Leroy’s 
face. So Ferra was not aware that he had quarreled with 
his former friend, and for reasons that were far from cred- 
itable to himself. She still supposed them bosom friends. 
So much the better for him. 

“ He took your desertion very hard; indeed, he was quite 
beside himself for awhile,” remarked Leroy, thoughtfully, 
and very much as if the past was at that very moment 
slowly rising before his mental vision. “I came to the con- 
clusion that his lovely prot^g^e had gained a stronger hold 
upon his heart than he was willing to admit. Such natures 
as his are sometimes hard to fathom. And now, madame, 
will you not accept the assurance of my most profound 
admiration, and — ” 

“ Herr Viscount,” interrupted Ferra, angrily, “ we agreed 


148 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


to be strangers. Let each one of us hold to our agreement. 

I must beg that you will remember this in future.” 

She appeared so unapproachable in her regal loveliness 
that he was compelled to respect her wishes. 

“Pardon me, madame, I will remember hereafter,” he 
murmured, apologetically. 

Ferra rose and moved forward to meet Detlef, who had 
just entered the room. 

“Are you sure, quite sure, that you are no longer angry 
with me?” she asked, in an undertone. 

“Yes, my darling.” He pressed her hand tightly to his 
breast. “You know only too well that I can not remain 
angry with you long.” 

She sighed. The whole world had undergone a com- 
plete change since the beginning of the evening. 

“I do believe you are yawning. Viscount,” said Maria 
Paulowna, as Leroy stood watching the two lovers from . 
beneath his half-closed eyelids. 

“ I never yawn,” he responded,, hastily. “ I consider 
such an act a confession of mental vacuity. A man who 
yawns must be absolutely devoid of ideas.” 

“ Nevertheless, you were very near doing it,” insisted the 
little Russian. “ I suppose you were driven to it by the ' 
sight of that pair of lovers. They always drive every idea 
out of my head, too. But remember my prophecy — in 
spite of his intense love for her, he will tyrannize over her i 
shamefully, and never allow her to obey her natural incli- 
nations in anything. Every German husband is a petty 
despot.” 

As the two ladies were driving home that night, Maria 
Paulowna made a similar remark to Ferra. “He is sure j 
to tyrannize over you, child, and you will have to obey him ] 
in everything. We had a convincing proof of that this 
evening. If you must marry, why don’t you take Leroy, ; 
who would spend your money and allow you perfect free- ' 
dom of action in return. Rommingen will never do that.” 

“ 1 don’t want him to. I want a husband who will guide 
and control me, and whom I can trust implicitly, even 
though he sometimes scolds and finds fault with me; a man 
who is infinitely my superior in every respect,” cried Ferra, ! 
hotly. “Besides, I love him! I love him! ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


140 


Completely unnerved by the exciting events of the even- 
ing, she burst into a fit of sobbing. Frau von Bogdanoff 
maintained a discreet silence after this outburst, but said to 
herself that forbearance was certainly as much of a neces- 
sity in the management of lovers as in the management of 
sick people. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

In the heart of the town there was a fashionable restau- 
rant where ladies often went to sip a cup of coffee or eat 
ices in the open air on summer nights, while one of the 
inner rooms was handsomely fitted up for the exclusive use 
of the officers of the garrison, and here they were wont to 
congregate in their leisure hours to discuss matters con- 
nected with their profession, their horses, and other sub- 
jects of general interest. There was a good deal of loud 
talking, for the gentlemen did not think it necessary to 
exercise much restraint over themselves when they were 
alone together. On this occasion, Erdmann von Nobbe 
was chief spokesman, as usual. 

“ How could any one imagine for a moment that such a 
story would fail to go the rounds? ” he remarked, to a 
neighbor. “ There were certainly plenty of persons to hear 
and see the absurd goings-on. The prince gives Rommin- 
gen’s betrothed a magnificent bracelet, and she wears it. Cer- 
tainly Rommingen must be as blind as a mole if he don’t 
understand what that means. And then she goes and gives 
Laudin a lock of her hair. It’s a wonder the whole affair 
hasn’t got into the papers. It is very hard to keep such 
piquant episodes a secret, and of course we are all dying 
with curiosity to know what will happen next.” 

“From what you tell me, I should judge that it must 
have been a pretty hard pill for Rommingen to swallow. I 
wonder he takes the affair so quietly.” 

“ It surprised me, too, at first; but you know we don’t see 
what goes on behind the scenes.” 

“And then, you remember that strange resemblance 
Laudin spoke of.” 

“ Yes. There are all kinds of rumors flying about.’ 


150 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS, 


The conversation soon became general, for every one 
was deeply interested in the Princess Arbanoff and her 
betrothal. 

Meanwhile, Eustace von Deuren had entered the room 
unobserved, hung up his cloak and cap, and seated himself 
moodily in a corner. He had evidently had a hard time 
at drill. 

“ It will be very amusing to watch Rommingen in the 
role of an adoring husband, while the prince poses as a 
favored lover in the background. Women like the Arbanoff 
understand how to manage that sort of thing very adroitly.” 

The tall lieutenant twirled his glass of port slowly 
between his fingers, and held it up to the light as he uttered 
the innuendo. 

Eustace overheard the remark, and hastily approached 
the table, his handsome, honest face red with anger. 

“ You had better refrain from any further remarks of 
that kind,” he exclaimed, indignantly. “ They might get 
you into trouble, for you know as well as I do that there is 
not one word of truth in them.” 

“Your child-like confidence does you honor,” drawled 
Von Nobbe, staring at the intruder through his eye-glass. 
“ Still, it seems just a little absurd, you know.” 

“Possibly it is,” retorted Eustace, wrathfully, “but it is 
certainly more honorable than slandering the absent. Such 
insinuations should be met with other weapons than words.” 

“ I am at your service whenever you desire to resort to 
others,” answered the tall lieutenant. “ You need not hesi- 
tate to use them, so far as I am concerned.” 

“Very good, then, I shall expect to hear from you,” 
answered Eustace, haughtily, as he turned and walked 
away. 

He felt well satisfied with what he had done. If he 
could only give that foul-mouthed scoundrel a reminder of 
the necessity of curbing his tongue, he would certainly be 
doing a good deed. Would any friend, worthy of the 
name, fail to resent such an insult? It made no difference 
whether it was Ferra’s name or Rommingen’s that was 
attacked, for they belonged together. His love for Ferra 
was now a thing of the past, but his generous heart revolted 
at the idea that she should be thus criticised and slandered, 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


151 


now there was no longer any chance for her defamer to 
win her and her millions. He resolved, too, to keep the 
affair a secret from Rommingen, if possible, whatever the 
result might be. 

“Wait a while, my fine fellow,” muttered Von Nobbe, 
“ and I think you’ll not feel so anxious to call me to account 
again. This young cavalryman needs a lesson, and he 
shall have it to-morrow, but it’s not worth while to spoil 
our fun now. A bottle of Roederer, waiter, and put another 
on ice.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Spring had really come at last. The earth emitted a 
moist, l)almy odor; the grass was a vivid green; the buds 
were swelling fast, and birds were flitting gaily about in the 
bright sunshine. 

Frau von Bogdanoff and Ferra were just returning from 
a drive. Rommingen was almost constantly on duty now, 
and Leroy, who was a great favorite with the little Russian, 
had acted as their escort, riding beside their carriage. 

“Come in and take a cup of tea with us,” Maria Pau- 
lowna called out to him, as he took off his hat to bid them 
good-by, when the carriage turned the corner of their 
street; and his heart swelled with exultation as he bowed 
his acceptance, for might not the opportunity for that long- 
desired tete-4-tete with Ferra have come at last? Ever 
since their first meeting, Ferra had seemed either unconscious 
of the hold he had upon her, or else not inclined to admit it, 
and she must be convinced of its reality. She must be 
made to feel how completely she was in his power. 

“I can’t understand why you’re continually inviting this 
hateful man to the house. Pussy,” exclaimed Ferra, petu- 
lantly. “ He is positively odious to me, and I expect Detlef 
this evening.” 

“ In that case four persons will certainly prove pleasanter 
company than three. I can’t imagine why you’ve taken 
such a dislike to Leroy. He’s an extremely entertaining 
and clever man, and, but for his lack of means, he might 
count upon a brilliant career.” 


152 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ I hate him,” repeated Ferra, curtly. “ He is a bad man, 
I know it.” 

“ I must admit that I’ve never been able to draw the 
line very accurately between good and evil,” answered 
Maria Paulowna, laughing, “so I’m not prepared to state 
with certainty to which category the individual in question 
belongs. But you have no cause to complain, my dear; 
Leroy doesn’t trouble you much with his attentions.” 

“No, thank heaven!” exclaimed Ferra, shuddering; 
conscious of the same feeling she had experienced years 
before, when Leroy tried to make love to her in the 
Arbanoff palace. 

An hour later, three people were seated around an 
elegantly spread tea-table in the Bogdanoff mansion. The 
samovar was bubbling musically in the soft light of the 
shaded lamp; Maria Paulowna lay curled up like a cat in 
her low arm-chair, chatting with Leroy, and Ferra sat a 
little aloof from them, taking no part in the conversation. 
Suddenly the little Russian sprang to her feet. 

“It is high time I was at that committee meeting,” she 
exclaimed, with a heavy sigh. “ Countess Lenheim has 
probably been fretting and fuming a long while because I 
have failed to make my appearance. We are to make arrange- 
ments for a fair the princess wishes given for the aid of the 
sufferers in the Hartz Mountains. Such bazaars, conducted 
by the ladies of the court, always yield a handsome sum of 
money, and I highly approve of these works of charity, 
only I don’t like them to defraud me of my cup of tea. I’ll 
see that you have a nice booth, Ferra; and you. Viscount, 
must entertain this disconsolate fair one as well as you can 
until my return. I shall be back in less than an hour — ” 

“ I should like — ” began Ferra, but Leroy anticipated 
her, by saying, promptly: 

“ I will obey you to the very best of my ability, madame.” 

As he spoke, he gave her such a meaning glance that she 
resumed her seat, and only gazed longingly after Maria 
Paulowna as she hurried from the room. 

“ I am grateful to chance for this long-desired opportu- 
nity to say a few words to you,” remarked Leroy, after a 
short silence. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


153 


“You can have nothing to say to me that the whole 
world may not hear.” 

“Do you think so, madame?” 

The words were uttered with such a bitter sneer, that 
Ferra turned and looked him full in the face. 

“ There was a time when I tried to be your friend,” he 
continued. “You repulsed me; fate separated us. If I 
offer you my friendship again to-day, will you accept it?” 

“ I have an honorable man’s love,” she answered, vehe- 
mently; “ I need no man’s friendship.” 

“ It is not well to place much dependence on a man’s 
' love.” 

“On the love of a betrothed lover, of a husband? Con- 
stantine convinced me to the contrary.” 

“ He was an old man, who knew exactly what he had to 
expect from life. Besides, you had no secrets from him.” 

She started violently, and bit her lip. 

“ The matters you speak of are of no special interest to 
him or to me, now.” Her voice trembled, though she tried 
to speak haughtily. 

“ Do you refer to Count Rommingen? ” 

“ Precisely.” 

“ Then you must permit me to say that you are very 
much mistaken. You may be able to form a tolerably 
correct opinion of men in general, but of this particular 
man, with his almost too fastidious sense of honor, and his 
obstinacy when any question of principle is involved, you 
really know little or nothing. I greatly fear, however, that 
you will soon learn to know him — at the cost of your own 
happiness.” 

Ferra had become as pale as death. Her lips were 
tightly compressed, and every nerve quivered with sup- 
pressed emotion. 

“ You are very much mistaken,” she faltered at last. 
“ Count Rommingen loves me — ” 

“ In that case, he is even more to be pitied than you are; 
for if he loves you, it will only make the struggle more 
severe. The result will be the same in either case.” 

She felt almost tempted to throw herself down at his 
feet, and implore him to keep her secret, but his cold, im- 
passive face cowed her, and she could only exclaim wildly: 


154 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Good God! is it any fault of mine that I was not born 
on a throne, instead of first opening my eyes to the light 
in a cellar on the Rue Rochefort? Who can justly blame 
me for that? ” 

Leroy looked at her agitated face, and exulted over the 
misery he saw depicted there. 

“ Ah! if that were all, ” he exclaimed, with a low, sneer- 
ing laugh. 

His tone excited her wonder: it gave her the impression 
that he was secretly laughing at her. 

“What do you mean?’' she cried, vehemently. “For 
once in your life, be perfectly frank with me.” 

Almost unconsciously, she clasped her hands and gazed 
at him imploringly. He turned away, and picking up the 
poker, plunged it into the glooming coals. 

“Your stay in the Arbanoff palace would be considered 
a much greater misfortune than your humble birth. 
Unfortunately, Achilles was very widely known in Paris,” 
he said, without looking at her. 

At first she stared at him with great wondering eyes, 
evidently entirely unconscious of his meaning; but after a 
little, her face changed, and she stretched out her hands as 
if to protect herself from something terrible. 

“ Oh, my God! ” she groaned, sinking back in her chair. 

Leroy stepped to her side. She did not even hear him 
approach; the little hand he seized was cold and lifeless 
as that of the dead. 

“ Ferra,” he whispered, preserving his calmness only by 
a terrible effort, “ Ferra, the world judges by appearances, 
you know; it has no other means of judging; and appear- 
ances are certainly against you. A single word in regard 
to your past, uttered here, would ruin you irretrievably. 
Do you know that? ” 

She uttered no sound. She only stared out into vacancy 
like a half-dead, tortured child. 

“ But why do I ask that question? ” he continued. “ You 
know something of the world in which you live, and you 
have seen more than one pitiless persecution similar to 
that to which you, yourself, are sure to be subjected. If 
the prince and princess knew the truth concerning your 
past, would they not despise you? and can you flatter your- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


155 


self that your betrothed would remain faithful to you? 
You try to delude yourself with the idea that all this will 
never come to their ears; but the world is only a little 
place after all, and if a falsehood has already flown with 
the speed of the wind from house to house, how much 
more swiftly and surely a spicy fact will obtain credence.” 

She uttered a faint moan. 

“Frau von Bogdanoff would have nothing more to do 
with you,” he continued; “all your acquaintances would 
ignore you, and the universal homage you have received 
would only make your disgrace the deeper. You would 
become a social Pariah, and yet, you believe you could still 
depend upon Rommingen’s love. Do you suppose that he 
will hesitate when he has to choose between his affection 
for you and his pride? Only a stern sense of duty would 
bind him to you then.” 

“ Do you really believe that the sneers of the world 
would prove mightier than his love?” she asked, energetic- 
ally, straightening herself up as if encouraged by the sound 
of her own impassioned words. 

“Yes,” was the cold but emphatic answer. “And I 
strongly advise you to break — before it is too late — a 
bond that can only result in disappointment and grief to 
both of you.” 

She buried her face in her hands. 

“ Death would be preferable to that! ” she sobbed. 

“ Is it possible you really love him so much? ” Bitter as 
his tone was, Ferra little suspected the agony of envy and 
jealousy Leroy was enduring. Very different words sprang 
to his lips, but he suppressed them. Why resort to violence, 
when he could gain his point by peaceful measures, and 
incense her less. 

“ I will listen to you no longer,” she cried, springing to 
her feet. “Go; you shall torment me no longer. But tell 
me one thing. Will you be silent or not?” 

In her eagerness, she seized his arm with both her hands: 
her fresh, dewy breath fanned his cheek, her eyes seemed 
to burn into his. Leroy dropped his eyelids to conceal the 
fire in his own gaze; he shivered, as if with ague. 

“I will be silent as long as I can,” he replied, at last, 
with forced calmness. 


15G 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Then all will be well.” Her face brightened, a burden 
seemed to have been lifted from her heart; once more the 
future smiled brightly upon her. “ How you frightened 
me! ” she exclaimed. “ I am as foolish and credulous as a 
child. All the evils with which you have threatened me 
are purely imaginary — at least, I am resolved to think so, 
and not to allow my peace of mind to be disturbed by 
them. And you will keep my secret all the more willingly, 
I know, because you are perfectly well aware how false 
such slanderous reports would be.” 

Each word she uttered dispelled her fears more and 
more effectually, and she even held out her hand to Leroy 
as to a friend and ally. “ Give me your hand on it,” she 
said, earnestly. 

To her great astonishment, he did not take her proffered 
hand. 

“I can not answer for the future,” he replied, guardedly; 
“ but you can hardly doubt my wish to serve you.” 

“ And I am quite content with that assurance, for it 
will protect me and my secret effectually, and this being 
the case, 1 am more than willing to apologize for every- 
thing — both here and in Paris. I had very little confidence 
in you then, as you know.” 

“Yes, I know,” and he bit his lip angrily. How foolish 
it was in her to remind him of it. 

“Count Rommingen Erdenflueh,” announced the liveried 
footman. 

Ferra hastened forward to meet her lover. “ Detlef, 
dear Detlef! ” she exclaimed, joyfully. 

His greeting, though gentle and exceedingly courteous, 
was much more reserved, any display of affection in the 
presence of a third party being very distasteful to him. 
Seeing her discomfiture, Rommingen drew her hand 
through his arm, and laughingly complimented her on her 
blooming appearance. 

“ Perhaps it is due to your society. Viscount,” he 
remarked, lightly. “Your conversation must have been 
very entertaining.” 

“ We were talking of you. Count.” 

“ Many thanks. I trust you were saying something of a 
complimentary nature.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


157 


‘‘ Quite the contrary, at least in my opinion,” answered 
Terra, her heart beating fast. “ The viscount considers you 
so firmly wedded to your opinions that nothing in the 
world could induce you to change them.” 

“ Possibly he is not so very far from right, after all,” 
answered Detlef, smiling at Terra’s strange eagerness. 

“ Why that would be terrible, Detlef. Still, I am sure it 
would depend very much upon the question involved.” 

“Yes, let us suppose, for instance,” began Leroy, secretly 
rejoicing at Terra’s imprudence, “it was a question of 
concealment — concealment prompted by love, one might 
say — what would be your verdict in such a case? ” 

“Such a concealment is nothing more or less than false- 
hood and hypocrisy, in my opinion. How terrible it must 
be to feel that one is concealing something from one’s 
dearest friend. The closer the tie that unites two people, 
the more perfect should be the confidence existing between 
them.” 

“What! even when one’s silence injures no one?” 
insisted Terra, tremblingly. 

“ That makes no difference. The offense would be no 
less culpable.” 

“But think a moment, Detlef,” she urged, her beautiful 
eyes raised imploringly to his; “ these things seem so dif- 
ferent in real life. One’s theories maybe grand and noble, 
but when the hour of trial comes, one may well shrink from 
inflicting pain upon one’s self or others, merely to satisfy 
one’s sense of right.” 

“ No, Terra, my mind is fully made up on that point. I 
could forgive anything more easily than an untruth or an 
act of deception in one I loved and trusted.” 

A pause ensued. Terra’s lips quivered. In her agony she 
could have shrieked aloud. Leroy came to her assistance, 
but she detected a malicious triumph in his tone, as he 
remarked, “ I was right, you see.” 

Her only answer was an angry glance; Leroy smiled. 
Detlef lifted the hand of his betrothed to his lips, and, 
noticing how cold and limp her fingers felt, he bent over her 
and murmured soothingly: 

“But why do you trouble yourself about questions like 
these, my dearest? What first won my love was the perfect 


158 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


frankness of your nature — your willingness to incur cen- 
sure rather than be untrue to yourself.” 

She turned away her head; her eyes were full of tears, 
and had they been alone together, it is more than likely 
that she would have told him all. But Leroy was present, 
and she felt his warning look, though she did not even 
glance at him. 

Just then Frau von Bogdanoff burst into the room, evi- 
dently much excited and annoyed. 

“Thank heaven! that is over,” she exclaimed, throwing 
herself into a big arm-chair. “ There ought to be a law 
against women’s meetings. They seem to have been 
devised principally for the destruction of one’s dearest 
friend’s reputation.” 

“What is the matter?” asked Ferra, thankful for the 
interruption; but Maria Paulowna made no reply. 

“ What on earth induced your friend to do such a stupid 
thing? ” she asked, suddenly, turning to Detlef, who gazed 
at her in astonishment. 

“To what do you refer, madame? I have no idea what 
you mean.” 

“Then you have heard nothing about the duel? ” 

“ The duel? ” 

“Yes, between Von Deuren and that tall Von Nobbe. 
‘A judgment of God,’ his sister styles it, rolling her eyes 
piously heavenward.” 

“ I know nothing about it, I haven’t seen Eustace for 
three days.” 

“ Is that so? Then go to him at once and scold him 
well. What business has he to constitute himself Ferra’s 
champion? ” 

“Then you must have heard the cause of the duel,” 
said Detlef, filled with consternation. “ In what way did 
Ferra’s name become mixed up in the affair? ” 

“Von Nobbe made some casual remark, I believe, which 
the hot-headed youth chose to resent. The princess is 
furious about it.” 

“That is just like him,” replied Detlef. “Under the 
circumstances, you ladies will, I am sure, excuse me. I 
must see Eustace at once. Auf wiedersehen'' 

Ferra followed him into the adjoining room. She had 
become strangely silent. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


150 


“Will you be back soon, Detlef?” she asked. 

“ Not this evening, I think. Poor Eustace, I suspect he 
has been making an ass of himself solely on our account, 
and I must look into the matter. He is a true and 
devoted friend, with all his faults.” 

She seized his arm impulsively, as if to detain him. 

“ Don’t go,” she pleaded, with tears in her eyes. 

He kissed her tenderly. “You are not really in earnest, 
I am sure, Ferra.” 

She released him, with a deep sigh. 

“ I wish you cared for nobody in the whole world but 
me,” she said, sadly, “ and that you would go back with me 
to Russia, where I was so happy.” 

“You shall be far more happy — far more,” he whispered, 
passionately. “ My love is stronger than you dream.” 

“ ‘ Stronger than you dream,’ ” she repeated to herself, as 
she turned to re-enter the drawing-room. The assurance 
consoled her not a little. 

Meanwhile, Count Rommingen was hastening to his 
friend’s rooms. He found him lying on a lounge, with 
his arm in a sling. He was rather pale, but his handsome 
face wore a very cheerful and contented expression, though 
he blushed a little as Detlef entered the room. 

“ What is the meaning of all this, Eustace? ” asked his 
visitor. 

“ A slight accident, as you see. I hoped you wouldn’t 
even hear of it. It really is not worth speaking of.” 

“ Thank heaven! it’s only a flesh wound, then. Will you 
not tell me the cause of the quarrel?” 

“Move that lamp a little, won’t you? Thanks, that is 
better. Well, you see one’s patience can’t hold out for- 
ever, and I’ve been longing to give that scoundrel a lesson 
for a long time.” 

“ It was connected in some way with my betrothed, was 
it not?” 

“ Who told you so? ” 

“ I heard it from Frau von Bogdanoff.” 

“Confound these women! they get wind of everything.” 

He was determined to keep the real cause of the duel 
from Rommingen if possible, however. “ I really don’t 
remember, exactly. He must have used some word that 
put me in a passion, and — ” 


160 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ But you must see that in that case it would be my 
duty to take the matter up, so be frank with me.” 

“ Really, Rommingen, I’d tell you all the particulars if I 
could; but I can’t, and the matter seems pretty effectually 
settled. Von Nobbe perhaps thinks he’s got the best of it, 
but the pitcher may go to the well once too often. Besides, 
there is really nothing to make a fuss about in this instance 
— nothing but a little harmless gossip — not worth a 
thought,” he added, for he was becoming a little uneasy. 

Detlef felt reassured. If there had been any serious 
grounds of offense, the young officer would certainly have 
asked his — Rommingen’s — advice. Eustace’s wound was a 
mere scratch, and there really seemed to be nothing for 
Rommingen to do but thank his young friend for his 
championship, and let the matter drop. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“You’re becoming so pale and distrait that I hardly 
know you,” remarked Frau von Bogdanoff one day. 
“ Order the carriage and go for a drive. It’s a lovely 
day.” 

“Won’t you come too. Pussy?” 

“ No, thank you. I have a cold, the only ailment that 
gives one an indubitable right to be cross; but don’t stay 
at home on that account. Take a drive in the park.” 

“I’m tired of seeing people; I think I’d rather drive 
out into the country.” 

“ Drive out into the country, then. Go where you please, 
and stay as long as you please. Don’t let me hinder you.” 

An hour later, the Bogdanoff carriage turned out of the 
fashionable thoroughfare, crowded with elegant equipages 
and pedestrians on their way to the park, into a quiet, 
unfrequented road, where the youthful occupant of the 
vehicle could enjoy the quiet beauty of the lovely spring 
day undisturbed. 

A few fleecy clouds were floating lazily over the blue 
heavens, the topmost branches of the trees were covered 
with fresh young leaves, the meadows were a beautiful 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


161 


green, and birds were singing everywhere. Ferra drove 
on and on, for as she leaned back on the soft cushions, 
with her eyes half closed, she quite failed to notice that 
the last straggling houses of the town had disappeared 
from sight. 

At last she opened her eyes and looked around her. 
She was in a small, unpretending village, and ordering 
the coachman to stop in front of a house where a foaming 
tankard, painted in glaring colors upon the sign-board, 
proclaimed it to be an inn, she alighted and entered the 
garden. 

There were a few rough wooden tables and benches 
shaded by cherry and walnut trees, and in spite of the 
rather uninviting aspect of the place, Ferra seated herself 
and ordered a glass of milk. The heat had made her 
thirsty, and the quietness of the spot was very welcome 
to her. A few swallows were flitting about and some 
hens were scratching in the gravel paths. Frau von Bog- 
danoff’s elegant equipage was concealed from view by a 
tall hedge. Ferra laid her hat and parasol on the table, 
and, drawing off her long gloves, rested her golden head on 
the rough bark of the big tree behind her. She had not 
felt so peaceful and happy for a long time. 

The sound of approaching footsteps aroused her from 
her pleasant reverie, and, opening her eyes, she saw Leroy 
standing before her, in faultless riding costume, with a 
small gold-handled whip in his neatly gloved hand; but 
Ferra felt as if some loathsome reptile had suddenly 
appeared in her pathway. 

“ You here, Princess, and alone! ” he exclaimed, without 
evincing much surprise, however. “When I saw the 
carriage stop, I anticipated the advent of quite a large 
party of ladies. What a charming day it is” — he laid his 
whip down on the table beside her parasol and removed 
his hat — “t)ut how warm! Allow me, madame.” The 
words were hardly a question, however. He seemed to take it 
for granted that a seat by her side would not be denied 
him. 

“ I must be going,” remarked Ferra, taking up her para- 
sol, the gold handle of which was set with precious stones, 
that sparkled in the sunlight. Leroy glanced at it. 

11 


162 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“Quite a work of art, Princess,” he remarked, with the 
air of a connoisseur. “ Really, your every wish seems to 
have been gratified. Must you go? This is such a nice 
place for a chat, and chance seems to have once more 
brought us together again.” 

In her secret heart she doubted if chance had had any- 
thing to do with it, but she did not think it advisable to 
contradict him. 

“ A quarter of an hour hence will do just as well, per- 
haps,” she remarked, indifferently. 

“ Thanks for the concession. You are not expecting 
Count Rommingen, then?” 

“ I do not expect to see him before evening.” 

She had resumed her seat. He was scrutinizing her 
closely. She felt his gaze, and the color in her cheek 
deepened. She turned to him with a slight frown on her 
brow. “ Is there anything you wish to say to me? ” 

“ There is, most assuredly.” 

“Very well, I am waiting.” 

An almost diabolical smile curved his thin lips. “ Ferra,” 
he said, and though his tone was neither low nor tender 
there was something in it that startled her, “can you 
not make up your mind to do it? ” 

“To do what?” she asked, breathlessly. It seemed to 
her that an icy hand had suddenly clutched her heart. 

“To break your engagement. I have been waiting for 
you to do that ever since the evening Rommingen uncon- 
sciously pronounced your sentence.” 

“ Never! ” she exclaimed, turning pale. 

“ But you must realize how grievously you are wronging 
him. You can not doubt the fact since that conversation 
took place. He will never forgive you for so deceiving him.” 

“ Leave that to him and to me,” she replied, struggling 
hard for composure. 

“ No, I can not. You were not born nor bred to a 
knowledge of these things, and your judgment is often in 
fault. I have not only a right to be perfectly frank with 
you, but it is my duty to be so.” 

“ But did you not promise me to be silent? ” 

“ Certainly, but that makes it all the more incumbent 
upon you to take the step I advise.” 


THE FLOWER CTRL OF PARIS. 


103 


“ And destroy his happiness and mine for the sake of a 
foolish prejudice. You can not be in earnest! ” she cried, 
her eyes full of terror. Detlef would not thank me for it.” 

“ Then why does the idea so terrify you? Do not try to 
deceive yourself. You know as well as I do that Rom- 
mingen is a thorough aristocrat, and that he would rather 
die than lead a life that does not accord with his principles 
and ideas, and therefore you are silent. Still, you are 
scarcely capable of fully understanding the consequences 
of this silence on your part; in fact, you would not under- 
stand it if you could. You would rather close your eyes and 
rush into an abyss, dragging your lover with you in your 
fall, than make a bold attempt to do what you know to be 
right. It would be hardly just to censure you for this, 
perhaps, but it certainly would be wrong for me not to 
try to open your eyes.” 

“ But what would you have me do? ” asked Ferra, 
brokenly. 

“ Break your engagement. There is no other way out 
of the difficulty.” 

She groaned, and covered her face with her hands. 

He watched her a while in silence. “ Well? ” he asked, at 
last. 

“ No, never! ” she exclaimed, resolutely, looking him 
full in the face. “ Do you not see that I love him with my 
whole heart and soul? ” 

‘‘ I know it.” 

1 And yet you make such a suggestion as this. Have 
you no compassion for me? ” 

“ None,” he answered, coldly. “ Did you show me any 
mercy, either here or in Paris? and yet I love you more 
ardently and passionately than you dream.” 

She sprang up, her face all aflame with anger. 

“ I will not listen to another word,” she said, haughtily. 

“But for once I will be heard,” he exclaimed, seizing 
her hand in an iron grasp. “ Oh yes! you can call your 
people if you like,” he added, contemptuously. “The 
carriage is not far off, and they would hear you; but I 
advise you, for your own sake, not to do it.” 

She sat down again, outwardly calm, but her pulses 
were throbbing wildly. 


164 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ Speak,” she said, leaning her head upon her hand. 

“ I love you, Ferra. My love is not a thing of a day. 
I have loved you ever since I first saw you in the Arban- 
off palace. How idiotically men prate of love and pas- 
sion. I know what love is. I know what abject slaves 
it makes of us. I dream of you when you are absent, 
Ferra; I live only in the brief moments spent with you. 
For your sake, I would gladly defy the whole world; for 
your sake, I would commit any crime” — emotion choked 
his utterance. 

“ And for that reason you threaten me, I suppose,” 
she said, with icy scorn. 

“I am no weakling; I will possess w’hat I so madly crave. 
In Paris I could only offer you my heart; to the Princess 
Arbanoff, on the contrary, I can offer both my heart and 
hand.” 

“ My heart and hand are no longer at my disposal.” 

“But you can free yourself; you must. Return to 
Russia; I will follow you, and by all we both hold sacred, 
Ferra, I swear you shall never repent your decision.” 

“ And what do you hold sacred? ” she asked, in the 
same disdainful tone. “ Neither innocence nor purity; 
neither true love nor one’s plighted word.” 

“ Do not drive me mad,” he hissed, his face almost touch- 
ing hers. “ Neither heaven nor hell can save you from me 
now. And I know everything. You need have no con- 
cealments from me. Just as you are, I crave you for 
my own.” 

Her patience was exhausted. With a look of intense 
loathing, she waved him aside. 

“ Cease! ” she cried, imperiously, her eyes blazing with 
anger. “I will not hear another word.” 

“ Have you no other answer for me? ” 

“None. Leave me, or I will call the servants.” 

But even as she spoke she found herself crushed in his 
embrace, his blazing eyes close to hers, his lips . pressed 
passionately on hers. For one instant, consciousness 
seemed to fail her, so unexpected was the insult; but sud- 
denly the aversion with which he had always inspired her 
deepened into such intolerable disgust that, scarcely know- 
ing what she did, she caught up the riding-whip that was 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


1G5 


lying on the table and struck at him savagely, though 
blindly. 

As the lash whistled through the air, Anatole hurled her 
from him with a smothered exclamation of rage. For an 
instant, pale as a corpse, he stood there motionless, gazing 
at her. An ashy pallor settled around his eyes and lips, 
rendering the red welt which the whip had made, and 
which extended from one corner of his mouth to his ear, 
all the more noticeable. The expression of his face was 
so diabolical that Ferra dropped her weapon and caught 
at the table for support. A paroxysm of rage, anything 
breaking that unnatural calm, would have been welcome 
at that moment; but silently, without a single word of 
leave-taking or a single glance at her pallid face, he 
turned and left the garden. 

A few minutes later she heard the ring of his horse’s 
hoofs upon the highway. 

She knew that she had a mortal enemy now, for every 
trace of love had vanished from his face, leaving only an 
expression of grim hatred depicted there; a mortal enemy 
who would have wiped out the disgrace she had inflicted 
upon him, in blood if she had been a man; but whose 
revenge on her would be none the less complete, for she 
was entirely in his power. Her good name and her happi- 
ness were both at his mercy, and he was perfectly well 
aware of the fact. 

She leaned her head against the trunk of the tree again. 
The sun had sunk below the horizon; a cool breeze had 
sprung up; the birds had stopped singing, and all her for- 
mer peace and happiness had vanished. A feeling of 
despair and desolation took possession of her, and burying 
her face in her hands, she wept long and bitterly. At last, 
she rose, pushed her hair from her throbbing temples, 
re-entered her carriage, and drove back to D . 

A short distance from the city she met Rommingen, who 
had ridden out to meet her. She recognized him while he 
was still some distance off, but instead of waving him a 
joyous welcome as usual, she drew back into the corner of 
the carriage as if asleep. As soon as he saw the equipage, 
he put spurs to his horse, and was soon beside the vehicle. 

“Ferra, dearest, I have found you at last! How glad I 
am!” 


166 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


She looked up at him wearily. 

“ I hardly expected to see you before evening, Detlef.” 

“We got through sooner than I thought. Are you not 
glad to see me? You seem so strangely silent." 

“Very," she answered, though she could hardly keep 
herself from shrieking wildly to heaven in her anguish. 

“ How pale you look! " he exclaimed, really alarmed, for, 
seen in the waning light, her face was ghost-like in its pallor. 
“ You should not have remained out so long; it is quite cold 
still; Maria Paulowna ought not to permit it. O Ferra, 
my darling, it is time that you were mine, all mine. I long 
for you continually. When will you marry me? " 

It was not often that he spoke with so much tenderness. 
They were rarely alone, but Detlef was a man whose deepest 
and tenderest feelings were aroused by a woman’s helpless- 
ness and dependence rather than her strength. As her 
lover’s tall form bent fondly over her, she trembled violently. 

“Soon," she whispered. “Whenever you wish, Detlef." 

“ Look at me, and give me your hand on it! " he cried, 
eagerly. 

She held out her hand, and gave him a quick upward 
glance, but she did not seem like herself. 

“I really believe you are ill," he exclaimed, anxiously; 
“would it be better for me not to return home with you?" 

“Yes, I think you had better leave me to myself, per- 
haps," she answered, gloomily. Her eyes were full of tears, 
but she kept them so studiously averted that he did not 
discover the fact. 

“ It makes me wretched to see you like this," and, seizing 
her hand, he bent over and kissed it, regardless of the 
passers-by. Ferra, who knew how undemonstrative her 
lover’s nature was, felt deeply touched by this proof of his 
tender anxiety. How long would it be before he would 
forsake her forever, and studiously avoid her? Why should 
she not enjoy her happiness while she could? So turning 
to him impulsively, she cried: 

“ No, no, Detlef, you must come with me. I can not 
bear to see you leave me." 

“ It is not pity for my weakness that gains me this per- 
mission? ’’ 

“Pity! ’’ she exclaimed, with a hysterical laugh. “ No, it 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


167 


is not pity. It is because I feel that I have a right to you, 
I think ” 

All the rest of the evening, she was unnaturally gay. 
More than once she saw her lover watching her, as if mar- 
veling to see her so unlike herself; but she could not help 
it. When he rose to go, she threw her arms around his 
neck, and kissed him passionately, even wildly. He felt her 
tears upon his cheek, but before he could question her, she 
had left him. He went home much troubled in mind. 
What could be the matter with his betrothed? He was 
completely in the dark. If there was any real trouble, he 
certainly ought to be the first to know it. Possibly Frau 
von Bogdanoff was right when she declared that the gaieties 
of the season had been too much of a strain upon her 
cousin’s nervous system. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Leroy returned home by the least-frequented roads. The 
welt on his face burned like fire; but that was nothing in 
comparison with the rage that consumed his heart. In 
spite of his disfigurement, he could not make up his mind 
to remain quietly at home, but rushed out into the streets. 
A wild longing to do something desperate assailed him. 
All his brilliant plans for the future, as well as his hope of 
securing Ferra and her wealth, had not only been ruthlessly 
destroyed, but he had been branded by the hand of a 
woman, chastised like a dog, and the only thing left him 
now was revenge. That thought was his only consolation, 
a soothing balm to the burning mark on his cheek. He 
slackened his pace as he studied how he could wound and 
disgrace Ferra most deeply. All the cold astuteness and 
craftiness of his nature suddenly reasserted itself. Some 
one called him by name, and in another moment Erdmann 
von Nobbe had crossed the street and joined him. Leroy 
involuntarily recoiled a step or two, for he felt inclined to 
shun observation as much as possible while the tell-tale 
mark remained on his cheek, but it was too late. No way 
of escape remained. 


1G8 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


I’m glad to have met you,” remarked the tall lieuten- 
ant. “ If you’ve nothing better to do, let’s go somewhere 
together. I’m just from the castle, and can tell you all the 
particulars about the bazaar.” 

“ That suits me, although ” (pressing his handkerchief to 
his smarting cheek), “to tell the truth. I’m not fit to be 
seen.” 

“ Why, what have you been doing to yourself? By Jove! 
that’s a terrible mark.” 

“ I ran against the bough of a tree, last evening, while 
riding,” replied Leroy, carelessly. “ It hung so low that I 
didn’t see it. Come with me to Tortoni’s, if it’s all the 
same to you, and we’ll have a bottle of claret. You can 
tell me the news while we drink it.” 

When they were comfortably seated over their wine, the 
tall lieutenant needed no urging to induce him to impart 
his store of information. Nothing pleased him so much 
as to prove himself well posted in all the sayings and 
doings of the court. 

“ The Princess Arbanoff has given up the flower-table, 
and will preside over a Russian tea-booth, attired in her 
national costume — a very happy idea. The Prince and 
Princess Dagobert will honor her by taking a cup. She is 
the only lady that is not to appear in evening dress.” 

Leroy laughed sarcastically. 

“ That’s a pity! ” he exclaimed. 

“Why do you say that? Because she appears in her 
national costume, or because she has given up the flower- 
table? It won’t make much difference to us. We shall 
have to open our purses all the same.” 

“ But how did this idea of appearing in Russian dress 
happen to occur to the princess? ” asked Leroy. 

“Why, it is very natural,. it seems to me, under the cir- 
cumstances, for a Russian to wear her national costume.” 

“ But the Princess Arbanoff is not a Russian.” 

“You’re very much mistaken, Leroy. When Laudin 
alluded to that remarkable resemblance between the prin- 
cess and his Helen, her lineage was discussed, and though 
she is neither a princess nor a countess by birth, we ascer- 
tained that she belonged to one of the lower orders of 
Russian nobility, She was a Nasakoff,” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


169 


“But only by adoption.” 

“The deuce! You seem to be devilishly well informed 
on the subject. No one here knows anything about it.” 

“It strikes me that there are a number of things the 
people here know nothing about, my dear fellow,” remarked 
the attach^, holding his wine up to the light. 

In his astonishment, the lieutenant dropped his eye-glass, 
and quite forgot to replace it. 

“You must have some good reason for making that 
remark.” 

“ Not at all. It had no special reference to anybody or 
anything, I assure you.” 

“ You needn’t try to deny it. I don’t believe you. Was 
there really any truth in that story of Laudin’s? ” 

“Why do you ask me that question? ” 

“ Because it seems to me you know more about this 
lady than any other person I have seen. Don’t be so con- 
foundedly close-mouthed.” 

“Chut, chut! ” laughed Leroy, leaning back in his chair, 
and sending some curling rings of smoke up toward the 
ceiling, “ don’t allow yourself to become excited. Why on 
earth should you fancy that my remark had reference to 
any particular person? Look at the matter sensibly, my 
dear fellow. A lady of rank, who is received at court, 
and who is betrothed to the crown-prince’s adjutant, occu- 
pies an almost unassailable social position, you must under- 
stand.” 

“ Was she really married to Prince Arbanoff? ” inquired 
Von Nobbe, after a brief pause. 

“ Unquestionably.” 

“Frau von Bogdanoff has often told us that her cousin 
went straight from the Convent of the Sacred Heart to the 
bridal altar.” 

“ Indeed! ” But though Leroy fixed his eyes on the chan- 
delier above their heads as he spoke, his companion 
started as if he had received an electric shock. 

“Ah ha! is that what’s the matter?” he asked, eagerly. 

“ Will you have the goodness to recollect that I have 
said nothing of the kind,” rejoined Leroy. “ The Princess 
Arbanoff is a beautiful and defenseless woman, and I have 
no desire to injure her in any way.” 


170 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ But you must recollect that society has an undoubted 
fight to know something about the antecedents of its 
members. You must expect to be held accountable if you 
suppress facts that people have a right to know.” 

The attach^ of legation shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I’ve no intention of getting myself into a scrape, 
nevertheless,” he retorted. “ My duty to society does not 
carry me as far as that.” 

“ It is perfectly evident that you’re determined not to 
tell what you know. Remember the bazaar will be held 
day after to-morrow, and the princess has promised to 
honor Mme. Arbanoff by taking a cup of tea with her.” 

“ And what of that, may I ask? ” 

“You might have cause to repent of it afterward, if she 
did.” 

“Nonsense! What possible interest can the people here 
take in events that occurred in Paris years ago? True, the 
princess, if she knew all, might — but no, that’s all nonsense. 
Suppose we change the subject, my dear fellow. How is 
your sister? and, by the way, have you heard who bought 
Lester’s chestnut mare? ” 

“ No. My sister is quite well, thank you,” replied the 
lieutenant, falling into such a profound reverie that he 
quite forgot to relight the cigar he held between his lips.” 

“By Jove! I haven’t made any trouble, I hope, 
exclaimed Leroy, laughing; “I do hate a row! It irri- 
tates my nerves. I never shall forget how worried I was 
for days after Achilles Arbanoff received news of his 
father's marriage to Ferra — ” 

He paused abruptly, as if he had but just become really 
conscious of what he was saying, cleared his throat, and, 
after taking a sip of wine, replaced his glass on the table. 

“What could have recalled that affair to my mind?” he 
exclaimed, frowning, as if deeply annoyed. “ A man of 
the world should take for his motto, Tout cofnprendre dest 
tout par donner. But it’s getting late, Von Nobbe; suppose we 
go to the club.” 

“I have an engagement at home, unfortunately,” replied 
the lieutenant, who was anxious to write to his sister with- 
out delay. 

Leroy smiled furtively as he and the lieutenant parted. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


171 


“I know perfectly well what Von Nobbe intends to do,” 
he said to himself. 

He passed his fingers over the welt in his cheek. It had 
ceased to burn now, but even if it had disappeared entirely, 
this would not have deterred him from pursuing the course 
he had marked out for himself. 

“Revenge is sweet,” he murmured; but perhaps, after 
all, he still cherished a hope of winning Ferra some day. 

It is more than probable that, Leroy expected a visitor 
the following day, for he did not leave his rooms, and 
when Lieutenant von Nobbe was announced, he received 
him very cordially. 

“I am glad to find you at home,” the guest remarked, 
“ for I wish to speak to you about a rather delicate matter.” 

“ Indeed! ” 

“ Yes. Do you recollect our conversation of last even- 
ing? Well, even at the risk of displeasing you, I find 
myself compelled to allude to it again. I was hardly as 
discreet as I should have been, I fear, in a chat with my 
sister shortly afterward, and the consequence is, her high- 
ness requests me to say that she wishes to see you at 
2 o’clock to-morrow.” 

“I am sorry, very sorry!” exclaimed the attache, jump- 
ing up and pacing the floor excitedly. “ If I had antici- 
pated anything like this, I would have bitten my tongue off 
rather than have said what I did yesterday.” 

“ I did what I thought to be my duty,” responded the 
lieutenant, with a rather consequential air; “and I am 
ready to answer for it.” 

Anatole laid his hand on his visitor’s shoulder. 

“ There’s no necessity for any such talk as that, my dear 
fellow,” he said, soothingly. “The idea of reproaching 
you never once occurred to me. But pray do me the favor 
to testify that I meant no harm. How impossible it is for 
one to foresee the consequences of even the most trivial 
word, it seems to me.” 

“I stand ready to exonerate you, of course.” 

“ Then there is nothing for us to do now but make the 
best of it.” 

As he spoke, he involuntarily passed his fingers over the 
mark on his cheek. 


172 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“ It is much better. There will be no trace of it 
to-morrow/' remarked Von Nobbe, who had observed the 
action, 

Anatole’s face flushed a little. 

“I have found an excellent salve for it,” he rejoined, 
hastily turning away. 

Fraulein von Nobbe was gazing down into the castle 
court-yard with great apparent anxiety. She seemed to be 
watching for some one, for at last, turning to her royal 
mistress, who was restlessly pacing the floor of her little 
reception room, she eagerly exclaimed, “Here he comes, 
your Highness! Here he comes! ” 

“ Go and tell him that I am ready to see him, Amanda. 
Ah, I fear we are likely to hear some terrible disclosures, 
my dear friend, but it would be very wrong to shrink from 
them, under the circumstances.” 

The maid-of-honor hastened into the antechamber to 
meet the visitor. 

“ Her highness is greatly exercised about this matter,” 
she whispered. 

“ Is this intended as an intimation that I had better 
withhold any information it is in my power to give?” Leroy 
asked, looking her full in the face. 

“Quite the contrary. Please show no hesitation.” 

She opened the door, and motioned Leroy to follow her. 

“ I am at your Highness’ service,” he said, with a pro- 
found bow. 

“Herr von Nobbe has doubtless explained to you my 
reasons for desiring this interview,” began the princess, 
promptly, “and I expect you to be perfectly frank. Vis- 
count.” 

“You may, most assuredly, your Highness, and you may 
also rely upon my unwavering devotion to your noble 
house.” 

“ That should have prompted you to divulge these facts 
at a much earlier day, it seems to me.” 

The princess was really half wild with impatience, and 
the rigorous restraint she imposed upon herself made her 
voice sound hard and unnatural. 

“Your reproof is scarcely deserved, I think, your High- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


173 


ness. I must ask your Highness to take into consider- 
ation the fact that when I returned here I found the Prin- 
cess Arbanoff occupying a very enviable position in your 
court, and a warning so untimely as mine needs must have 
been, would apparently have been worse than useless. 
Was it not rather the duty of those around you to have 
instituted the needful inquiries before that time?” 

“Yes, you are right,” responded the princess; “but 
there seemed to be no one here who could give us any 
reliable information on the subject. Even the resemblance 
Laudin spoke of only served to arouse a few vague suspi- 
cions. I must consequently request that you will be per- 
fectly frank with me. Viscount.” 

She motioned Leroy ta a seat near her. There was a 
look of fierce and relentless determination on her face. 

“If your Highness commands, really commands me — ” 
He hesitated, not from any feeling of compassion for his 
victim, but merely from cold calculation. “I must not 
neglect to say in advance, however, that I spoke very 
thoughtlessly the other evening, and without the slightest 
idea that any such construction would be placed upon my 
words. My connection with the embassy makes it neces- 
sary for me to exercise the utmost caution.” 

“Oh yes! I am very well aware of all that,” rejoined the 
princess, clasping and unclasping her hands feverishly, “but 
you can hardly expect me to abandon this inquiry on that 
account. I know what is due to my name and position too 
well for that. Above all things, I am resolved to have no 
objectionable persons connected with my court. 'Can you 
assure me, upon your word of honor as a gentleman, that the 
Princess Arbanoff's past is without stain?” 

Leroy made no reply, but sat with his eyes fixed upon 
the carpet and his lips tightly compressed. 

“Ah! your silence is more eloquent than any words. As 
you hesitate. Viscount, I may as well say to you once for all 
that I am resolved to know all.” 

“ May I feel assured that my name will not be mentioned 
in connection with this affair, your Highness? ” asked Leroy, 
at last, with a quick glance upward. “It would place me 
in a very trying position. Good heavens! your Highness, 
may I not implore you to allow me to be silent?” 


174 


THE FLOWER GIRL bF PARIS. 


The attache sighed heavily, and passed his hand over his 
forehead as if he were undergoing a severe mental conflict. 
He was such a capital actor that he completely deceived 
both his auditors. Even the princess wavered for a second ; 
then, straightening herself in her chair, she said sharply, 
even sternly: ' 

“ I appeal to your sense of honor, Viscount. Can you 
look calmly on and see me deceived and — and even made 
an object of ridicule. A woman implores your aid. In 
spite of my exalted position, perhaps I should rather say, 
by reason of it, I am often misunderstood; you and you 
alone have it in your power to prove to the world that my 
intuitions were correct in this case. Your name shall 
never be mentioned in connection with the affair. You can 
tell me all with perfect safety. Need I say more?” 

“No, your Highness.” 

He slightly bent one knee, and lifted the hand of the . 
princess reverently to his lips, an act of homage that 
secretly pleased Sibylle not a little. 

“ I once had a friend in Paris, Achilles Arbanoff, the 
step-son of the princess,” he began, hastily, as if fearing his 
resolution would fail him. “ He was a young man, but 
thoroughly blas4, as wealthy men who have no real object 
in life are almost sure to be. His idea of perfect feminine 
loveliness was red hair and green eyes — ” 

“Ah! ” sighed Fraulein von Nobbe, clasping her hands. 

“ He at last found this peculiar combination in a little girl 
who sold flowers upon the boulevard. Her name was Ferra.” 

“ How terrible! ” exclaimed the princess. She had become 
very pale, and her face wore a Medusa-like expression of 
horror, while her maid-of-honor sank back in her chair with 
a half-smothered exclamation. 

“Achilles purchased this child of her parents, who lived 
in a cellar in the Rue Rochefort, and sent her to the Con- 
vent of the Sacred Heart to be educated. She promised 
to be very beautiful.” 

The princess sprang up. Her breath came quick and 
short, and her eyes looked daggers. 

“ And this beggar brat of the Rue Rochefort has been 
forced upon us! ” she hissed. 

Leroy bowed assent. 


175 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARTS. 

“When the girl was sixteen years of age, the abbess sent 
her back to the Arbanoff palace,” he continued, after a short 
pause. 

“And she remained there? ” shrieked the maid-of-honor. 

Leroy did not answer, but glanced at the princess. Their 
eyes met. 

“ Go on! ” said Sibylle, nervously plucking at the lace on 
her pocket-handkerchief. 

“Ferra had more than fulfilled the promise of her youth. 
She was wonderfully beautiful. All Achilles’ friends envied 
him, and he was disposed to make the most of his good 
fortune by displaying his lovely toy in public. One even- 
ing, for example, he set her up as a show in his box at the 
opera. At last his father came to Paris, saw the beautiful 
girl, fell in love with her himself, and persuaded a fellow 
Russian named Nasakoff to adopt her; then he ran off 
with her and afterward married her. That is all I know 
about the lady, your Highness.” 

“ It is outrageous, simply outrageous! ” shrieked Frau- 
lein von Nobbe, quite forgetting etiquette in her horror, 
and burying her face in her hands. 

“ And this adventuress can boast of having been received 
at our court! ” cried the princess, indignantly. “ It all comes 
from our absurd admiration for anything foreign. I may 
well feel humiliated! And you are sure that all this is 
really true. Viscount?” 

“I was Achilles Arbanolf’s most intimate friend at the 
time,” replied Leroy, with a diabolical smile on his thin 
lips. 

“ This accounts for the expression of terror I noticed on 
the Arbanoff’s face the evening of your birthday f^te, your 
Highness,” remarked the maid-of-honor, rising and 
approaching her mistress. 

“ And I now understand many other things that seemed 
incomprehensible to me before,” declared the princess, 
shrugging her shoulders disdainfully. “ I feel deeply 
indebted to you, Viscount.” 

“ Then I have not offended your Highness? ” 

“ Offended me? My friend, you can hardly realize how 
difficult it is not to swerve from the path of rectitude in 
this wicked world. It costs one so much effort and such 


176 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


constant self-denial, that one should be grateful for the 
slightest aid. 1 thank you most sincerely.” 

She again extended her hand, and as he raised it to his 
lips he secretly wondered why it trembled so and was so 
icy cold. His disclosures could not have moved her at all 
deeply, for however much inclined to be jealous she 
might be, Ferra certainly gave her no cause now. But — 
who can fathom the mysteries of a woman’s heart? Leroy 
did not take the trouble to solve the enigma. He had had 
his revenge, and Ferra would find the consequences of her 
blow far more painful than the blow itself had been. 

“ And now may I venture to once more remind your 
Highness of your gracious promise? ” asked the French- 
man, insinuatingly, with a keen glance from his cold gray 
eyes. “ Possibly your Highness may have devised some 
plan,” he added, meaningly. 

The princess shook her head. 

“I must have time for reflection,” she answered; “but 
you may rely upon my silence.” 

“ I thank your Highness.” 

He saw that he had received his dismissal; but instead 
of retiring, he ventured to say, in a subdued voice: 

“For Count Rommingen’s sake, I would implore you to 
exercise the greatest forbearance possible under the circum- 
stances. He loves his beautiful betrothed devotedly — ” 

The princess turned her head so quickly that her face 
was entirely hidden from Leroy’s view. 

“ And it would pain me deeply to feel that I had been 
the cause, even the innocent cause, of severing a bond 
founded upon mutual affection; though the count’s char- 
acter — ” 

“ Leave all that to me,” interrupted the princess, with 
such evident impatience that Leroy saw that his departure 
could be no longer delayed. 

“There is something under all this that I do not under- 
stand,” he said to himself, as he descended the steps of the 
castle; “but I have sowed the seed; now let us see what 
the harvest will be. It will prove a sorry one, I fancy, for 
the woman who so humiliated me. My beautiful Ferra, 
your day here is nearly over! ” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


m 


CHAPTER XXII. 

For several days Laudin had been busily engaged in dec- 
orating the spacious hall where the long-talked-of bazaar 
was to be held. He had succeeded admirably, and he felt 
well satisfied with the result of his labors as he turned to 
inspect the hall for the last time. Nothing was lacking. 
The little stalls were gaily draped with the national col- 
ors, and the walls were almost concealed by flags and 
evergreens. 

The tables were loaded with the pretty but useless arti- 
cles which were to be forced upon a generous public. 
Immense palms overshadowed charming nooks where the 
weary could rest a few moments; and the entrance was 
beautifully draped with flag.s, surmounted by the national 
coat-of-arms. The workmen, who had just driven the last 
nail, were gathering up their tools when Laudin put on his 
hat. In a few short hours the peace and quiet that now 
prevailed would give place to the wildest bustle and excite- 
ment. 

As he was about to leave, Laudin turned to cast one 
more glance at the Russian booth, where an immense 
samovar was shining brightly, and tiny Chinese cups, 
together with piles of cigarettes in dainty cases, were pret- 
tily arranged on large trays. These last were to be dis- 
pensed by Frau von Bogdanoff in exchange for filthy 
lucre. 

“ How pretty the princess will look there, in that bewitch- 
ing costume, with the Russian colors for a background,” 
thought Laudin. “ There is something positively irresist- 
ible about that woman’s beauty.” 

He hastily summoned one of the workmen, and bade 
him lower the curtains a little on one side of the booth. 
“ It makes the folds more graceful,” he .said to himself, his 
heart swelling with pride. ‘‘ I certainly intend to treat 
myself to a cigarette and cup of tea, though if the princess 
sets the example, there will be a terrible crowd. Three 
12 


178 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


hours yet before it begins! I shall have plenty of time to 
take a walk.” 

The day had not been one of unalloyed tranquillity at 
the castle. Though the princess had repeatedly given 
orders that she should be immediately informed of her 
husband’s arrival, the previous afternoon, his highness 
remained so long at the castle with the grand duke, that 
she was finally obliged to give up all hope of seeing him 
that night, and was consequently compelled to postpone 
her revelations until the following morning. She finally 
concluded that this would be much the best arrangement 
after all, as the prince would have very little time to oppose 
her; but she had scarcely risen the next morning, when the 
sound of carriage-wheels in the court-yard below drew her 
to the window, and she saw the prince, in full uniform, drive 
off, accompanied by his adjutant. Shortly afterward, a foot- 
man brought her a telegram, to which the prince had 
hastily added a few lines in pencil. 

It was a dispatch informing the grand duke that the 

Crown Prince of B , the son of his near kinsman and 

devoted ally, was passing through the country, and would 
be very glad to exchange greetings with some member of 
the royal family. 

“You will go to A to-morrow, will you not, Dago- 

bert?” the duke had asked; and his nephew had promptly 
acquiesced. Both gentlemen had forgotten all about the 
bazaar, and when it occurred to the prince, he merely 
remarked to Rommingen: 

“ I regret very much that I shall not be able to see and 
admire your beautiful betrothed, but the king’s mandate 
must be obeyed.” 

And Detlef heroically suppressed a sigh, as he answered: 
“I know my duty, your Highness.” 

“ Yes, and duty and pleasure are by no means synony- 
mous terms, as I know to my sorrow,” remarked the prince, 
lightly. “ I fear the whole thing will be over when we 
return. Oh well! you will have your reward afterward. 
Ah, what can be more delightful than a lovers’ tete-^-tete! ” 

“ They are gone,” thought the princess, far from pleased. 
“ How unfortunate! Shall I abandon my plan? I would 
much rather have spoken to Dagobert first; besides, 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


179 


Rommingen’s presence seems almost indispensable to the 
complete success of my scheme.” 

For a moment she thought strongly of appealing to the 
grand duke, whose sanction would protect her from all 
censure; then she recollected the peculiar expression she 
had often noticed in his eyes, and the quiet way in which 
he had so often said to her: 

“ My dear Sibylle, I am only a man, and consequently 
understand nothing about these feminine controversies; 
but it seems to me that patience and forbearance are the 
noblest attributes of a woman’s character.” 

Perhaps he might even side with the Princess Arbanoff. 
Who knew what Dagobert might have told his uncle about 
her. No, she dared not appeal to him. As she was so 
entirely alone, she must cope with this emergency alone. 
And having stripped the flower she was holding of its 
petals, she threw the stalk on the floor and trampled it 
under foot. 

Meanwhile, Ferra was sitting in the Bogdanoff man- 
sion with a tiny bouquet in her hand. She was gazing 
fondly at the flowers, for Detlef had sent them to her with 
a brief note. 

“ Duty calls me from your side to-day, my darling. It is 
hard, but I must needs turn a deaf ear to the promptings 
of my heart. Wear these flowers; touch them now and 
then, and think of me, as I shall think of you. It is strange 
how deeply this little disappointment depresses me. Is it 
a token of your ever-increasing power over my life and 
soul? It must be so, Ferra, and the thought would fill me 
with dread if it did not make me, at the same time, so 
unspeakably happy. Rather death than life without you.” 

She read the brief missive over and over again. What 
ardent passion spoke in every line. How could she ever 
have doubted the sincerity and fervor of his love, or have 
tortured herself with absurd fancies and still more absurd 
misgivings? If he loved her like this, would not all the 
horrors of the distant past vanish in the presence of such 
love, as phantoms fade away in the light of dawn? Why 
should she fear to tell him all? Why had she permitted 
Leroy to imbue her with such distrust of one who loved 
her — yes, loved her. She reproached herself bitterly for 


180 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


not having confided in him before. She pressed his note 
and the flower passionately to her lips. Oh! if he were 
but here, so she could weep out all the misery of the last 
few weeks on his breast. He would smile and console her 
— she knew he would. Again life became bright before 
her, as she liked to behold it, and every shadow vanished. 

The thought of having no shadow of concealment 
between Detlef and herself filled her with rapturous 
delight. She leaned her head upon her hand, and with 
cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling, she began to hum 
gaily: 

Voyez ce beau garden, 

Cest Vamant d'Amande. 

How they would laugh together over this reminiscence 
of her childhood. She felt happy and light of heart once 
more, and no warning voice whispered, “Too late, too 
late, perhaps! ” 

Frau von Bogdanoff secretly exulted at her cousin’s 
radiant beauty, when she saw her standing in the pretty 
booth arrayed in her becoming Russian costume — Detlef’s 
flowers worn on her breast, her only ornament. Her won- 
derful eyes shone like stars; the expectation of her lover’s 
speedy return imparted an unusual brilliancy to her color- 
ing, and Maria Paulowna said to herself, again and again, 
“ What a superbly beautiful creature she is! ” 

A dense crowd soon filled the spacious hall. People 
jostled each other, and paid each other compliments, and 
laughed and jested, and purchased freely right and left; for 

many of the citizens of D were only too glad to have an 

opportunity to mingle with the aristocracy, and to display 
their wealth before their superiors in rank. 

Ferra’s stall was besieged with purchasers. All Rom- 
mingen’s acquaintances, and everybody who could invent 
ally excuse for approaching her, thronged the limited space 
in front of her booth. The intense heat of the hall, the 
bustle and confusion — above all the admiring crowd around 
her — pleased and excited her, without affecting her nerves 
unduly. She handed gentlemen cigarettes, and poured 
tiny cups of tea for the ladies, almost without cessation, 
and without once remembering that it would become the 
Princess Arbanoff to show a little more reserve. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


181 


But Eustace von Deuren realized this fact only too well, 
as he stood a little in the background. He was even con- 
scious of a slight feeling of relief that Detlef was not 
present. Leroy and Von Nobbe stood only a little way off, 
but Ferra was so busy that she did not even notice the 
presence of her mortal enemy. 

At last, amid the deferential greetings of the crowd, the 
Princess Sibylle came slowly down the narrow pathway that 
opened only to immediately close again behind her. 
Fraulein von Nobbe was with her. The princess was even 
more plainly dressed than usual, and her face wore astern, 
even bitter, expression. As she approached the booth 
where Ferra was preparing to offer her a cup of tea, her 
face grew still paler, and her eyes more haughty. 

Leroy, who was watching these proceedings eagerly, saw 
this look, and exulted in his secret heart. 

“ This is becoming amusing,” he said to himself. “ How 
terribly excited even such apparently cold-blooded women 
as the princess can become! ” 

“At first he seemed likely to be disappointed in his 
expectations. The princess made no scene. On the con- 
trary, she remained perfectly composed — at least to all 
outward appearance — and seemed to be engaged in earnest 
conversation with her maid-of-honor, turning her head but 
once, and then only to bow graciously to the young 
Countess Schonborn among her roses. Leroy bit his lip 
savagely. He thought that his victim had escaped him; 
that the princess had played him false after all. 

On reaching the end of the hall, the princess turned and 
walked straight back toward Ferra’s stall. It was gen- 
erally understood that she was to stop there a moment, and 
take a cup of tea; and also that Frau von Bogdanoff had 
ordered a costly bouquet to be brought to her cousin for 
presentation to the princess; so people began to stare, and 
exchange whispered comments when they noticed that her 
royal highness did not even glance at the gaily decorated 
booth and its fair occupant. As the prince was not present, 
the interest of all present centered in the Princess Sibylle. 

Frau von Bogdanoff ’s sharp eyes did not fail to note this 
apparently premeditated slight to her cousin, so she 
promptly made her way to Sibylle’s side. 


182 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“May I venture to remind your Highness of your 
promise to take a cup of tea with us? ” she asked, in her 
high, shrill voice, the beaded pendants on her black gown 
clashing noisily the while. 

The princess turned very pale, and her lip curled con- 
temptuously. She was standing so near the booth that 
Ferra could not fail to hear every word that was uttered. 
The crowd had retired a few paces; Amanda alone 
remained close beside her royal mistress. An ominous 
silence brooded over the party for a moment; for a moment 
every one listened with bated breath; then the princess 
said, quietly, almost automatically, as if it were only by 
the greatest ffort that she could hold her real feelings in 
check: 

“Thanks, Frau von Bogdanoff; I can confer such a dis- 
tinction only upon a person of irreproachable character.” 

She gazed straight over the little Russian lady’s head, 
and out in vacancy, as she spoke. 

Frau von Bogdanoff gave a violent start, then straight- 
ened herself up until her tiny figure assumed an air of 
marvelous dignity. 

“ Such a remark requires an explanation, your High- 
ness.” 

The princess smiled. “ I know that foreigners have 
much more lenient ideas on this subject than we have,” she 
remarked, in the same icy way. “You may attach no 
importance to the origin of beauty which has, perhaps, 
risen to wealth and position solely by reason of mere 
external attractions; you may not even ask if this position 
has been secured at the cost of honor and reputation, but 
I do; and I say it is an infamous act to conceal these facts 
from those who have been virtually forced to receive such 
persons as friends.” 

Frau von Bogdanoff turned as pale as death. “ I still 
fail to understand your Highness,” she replied, quietly; but 
her eyes glared like those of an enraged tigress. 

‘‘If you, too, have been deceived,” continued the 
princess, still preserving her composure — though not with- 
out a terrible effort — “ ask that person standing there”— 
with a contemptuous movement of her head toward Ferra — 
“ask her where her cradle stood, if, indeed, she had one. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


183 


And do not forget to make some inquiries concerning the 
time spent in the Arbanoff palace, between the day of her 
departure from the Convent of the Sacred Heart and her 
marriage.** 

With wildly terrified eyes, Ferra had breathlessly followed 
every word. It seemed to her that an iron hand was 
clutching her throat, depriving her of all power to move 
or speak or think. She perceived, with horror, the impass- 
able gulf which these revelations had created between her 
and those around her. She glanced at Maria Paulowna’s 
sallow face; then everything began to whirl madly round 
and round. She uttered a quick, sharp cry; the cup 
dropped from her hand, and she sank, more dead than 
alive, into a chair behind her. 

The princess turned at the sound, and all her inherent 
hatred of youth and beauty revealed itself in the look she 
cast at the drooping form of her rival. 

“Adventuress!” she exclaimed, contemptuously. Then 
turning to Frau von Bogdanoff, she added venomously, “ I 
am no champion of disreputable women, madame. The 
air that surrounds me must and shall be pure.” 

She turned to move away, but the little Russian kept 
resolutely beside her. 

“ May I ask where your Highness obtained this infor- 
mation? ” she asked, with great apparent calmness. 

“ That is my affair. I do not expect or ask you to 
believe me without further evidence, however. Ask your 
— your beautiful cousin, and if that does not content you, 
ask Prince Achilles Arbanoff. Not another word, if you 
please. We may be aware of the existence of — of vice, 
but we can avoid coming in personal contact with it. I 
positively forbid any further discussion of the matter.” 

“ Nevertheless, your Highness must permit me to doubt 
that you have heard the last word from me on this subject! ” 
cried Maria Paulowna, angrily. “ I certainly intend to fight 
such atrocious calumnies with every weapon at my com- 
mand.” 

In fact, she looked quite ready to fly at the princess and 
tear her eyes out. The tall, angular, spiteful creature 
seemed as hateful and odious in her eyes as the hypocrisy 
and rancor of which she was the living personification; but 


184 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


she quietly turned and walked straight back to the booth 
where she had left Ferra. 

“ The bomb-shell has burst,” whispered Erdmann to his 
sister. “ I’m sorry I was so far off that I couldn’t hear 
what was said, but her highness looked like a fiend incar- 
nate. And do you notice how the crowd has melted away 
in front of the beautiful princess’ booth? There isn’t a 
soul left there now.” 

“ Give me my salts, Amanda,” said Sibylle, leaning 
heavily on her confidante’s arm. “ I really do not think 1 
feel able to remain here any longer.” 

“Don’t give way, I beg, your Highness,” whispered the 
maid-of-honor. “A judge should show no weakness.” 

The princess straightened herself up. “ You are right, 
Amanda, and I thank you for the reminder. Let us pay 
a visit to that booth over there; I would like to purchase 
that kneeling figure.” 

“ Women adore scenes, but there is nothing we men hate 
as much,” Leroy remarked to Von Nobbe, with a shrug of 
the shoulder. 

“Yes; if I had been in her highness’ place, I would 
have managed the affair more quietly. Look, everybody 
feels that something or other has gone wrong. You can 
see inquiring glances and looks of dismay on every side. 
Everybody seems to be asking what the matter is.” 

He uttered these last words in a rather louder tone, and 
a gentleman who was standing near overheard them. 

“ The Princess Arbanoff has been suddenly taken ill,” he 
volunteered. 

Leroy and Von Nobbe exchanged glances, and smiled. 

“No wonder, in this heat,” remarked the latter. 
“ Zounds! what a commotion this affair will create. Won’t 
Prince Dagobert rave when he hears of it? ” 

Under the palm trees, and in front of the different 
booths, groups of people were already discussing this start- 
ling episode in those half-whispers that seem so full of 
significance. 

“How shameful! how perfectly outrageous! ” resounded 
on every side; and though no one knew exactly what had 
occurred, or exactly what had elicited these remarks, people 
began to express profound pity for Rommingen, who had 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


185 


allowed himself to be thus entrapped, and to wonder how 
on earth he was going to get out of the scrape. 

The last thing Ferra saw, as she sank back, half-fainting, 
in her chair, was Frau von Bogdanoff walking away from the 
booth in company with the princess, and without bestowing 
so much as a glance on her. So Pussy, too, had condemned 
her; condemned her without even a hearing! Ferra knew 
that the little Russian prided herself on her coldness of heart, 
and that she was wont to declare that the one rule of her 
life was, “ Never compromise yourself.” Now that she, 
Ferra, found herself thus hopelessly compromised, there 
could be little doubt that henceforth she would be as one 
dead to Maria Paulo wna. Her eyes filled with tears. She 
felt, rather than saw, how completely her booth had been 
deserted. The only desire of which she was now clearly 
conscious was to get away. She did not doubt for an 
instant that it was from Leroy’s hand that this blow came. 
She knew that he must be, even now, gloating over his vic- 
tim’s anguish. With trembling hands, she tried to steady 
herself by the little table. She would go, go at once; she 
would see no one else, not even Detlef. She shook, as 
if with a fit of ague. She dared not even think of him. 

As she approached the door, the portiere was hastily 
drawn aside, from without, and Eustace von Deuren 
appeared upon the threshold. 

“ May I venture to offer you my arm, I see that you are 
not well,” he asked, kindly. 

She glanced up at him like some hunted creature, who 
no longer knows whom to trust. Did he know all? Was it 
pity or ignorance that brought him to her aid? 

A sudden dizziness put an end to her hesitation. 

“ I thank you very much. Please take me to the car- 
riage,” she faltered. 

As she sank back on the cushions, pale as death, and 
trembling like a leaf, he suddenly sprang into the carriage 
and seated himself beside her. 

“ Detlef would never forgive me if I were to leave you 
in this state,” he remarked, with all the solicitude of a 
devoted brother. 

On hearing that name she opened her lips, as if to speak; 


186 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


then, without uttering a sound, buried her face in her hands 
and burst into a paroxysm of bitter weeping.' 

He allowed her to give free vent to her grief for a while, 
then gently drew her hot hands from her face. 

“ Some one has wounded you,” he said, in the soothing 
tone one would use to a child. “Will you not tell me 
what has happened?” 

His handsome face looked earnest and worthy of confi- 
dence, his whole manner was deferential and kind; never- 
theless, she shook her head sadly. 

He did not insist further, but when the carriage stopped 
in front of the Bogdanoff mansion, he assisted her to alight, 
and then half led, half carried her to the little blue drawing- 
room. The servants had taken advantage of their mis- 
tress’ absence; at least none of them were visible. Ferra 
did not seat herself, but throwing up her arms with a wild 
gesture of despair, she cried: 

“ All is over! All is at an end.” 

“Why do you say that! Detlef will defend you. You 
need have no fears, madame. He is the noblest of men.” 

“ But it is true, all true,” she wailed, burying her hands 
in the thick masses of golden hair that hung over her 
brow and temple. “ He told only the truth. Born in the 
Rue Rochefort — unprotected so long in the Arbanoff pal- 
,ace — it is all true, all; but was it any fault of mine? ” 

She gave him a quick glance of agonized entreaty. 

Von Deuren’s face blanched. 

“ Why did you not tell Detlef this before, madame? ” he 
asked, reproachfully. 

“Because I had almost forgotten the past. Who had 
any right to question me about it? Detlef had learned to 
know and love the Princess Arbanoff, for I a^n the Princess 
Arbanoff, and so I shall remain. Is not that sufficient? ” 

He shook his head. A terrible suspicion assailed him. 

“I ceased to allude tG my past,” she continued, pite- 
ously, “because Constantine begged me not to do so. He 
did not despise me on account of it, but perhaps it was 
because he was so noble-hearted that he felt only pity for 
my forlorn and defenseless condition.” 

And with a passionate cry she sank into a chair, and 
holding out both hands to Eustace, exclaimed, imploringly: 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


187 


“ Oh, speak one word of comfort. Tell me that Detlef 
will not be so cruel as to desert me.” 

But the young officer remained silent, for though he 
pitied the beautiful woman deeply, when he thought of 
Detlef, he could not speak the word of comfort she craved. 
What the result of the conflict that must inevitably take 
place in his friend’s soul would be, he was utterly unable 
to say; but something whispered that love, however pure 
and ardent and impassioned it might be, would be forced 
to succumb in such a case. Ferra seemed to divine his 
thoughts. His very hesitation was sufficient answer. 

“ Herr von Deuren,” she said, in a voice broken with 
sobs, “ if Detlef, too, condemns me, I shall consider it only 
a just punishment for my silence. But will you not tell 
him yourself? Do not let him hear it in some horrible way. 
Every one has forsaken me; be a friend to me, I implore 
you. I have not been guilty of any crime, though appear- 
ances may be against me, and I have loved him so dearly. 
It was love for him that kept me silent.” 

Tears choked her utterance. She was not even aware 
that she had spoken of her love as a thing of the past; but 
Eustace observed it, and a feeling of compassion again 
became paramount in his youthful heart. 

“I will do my best,” he said, earnestly. “Detlef must 
have a talk with you; perhaps all will yet be well.” ^ 

She shook her head despondently; then she leaned her 
aching brow upon his shoulder, like an unhappy child. The 
young officer seemed to her the last link between her and 
the happy past. 

“You are his friend,” she said, as if in apology for the 
act; “tell him,” she added, hastily springing up, as if she 
found it impossible to remain quiet, “tell him that my 
heart could not beat more warmly and truly for him if it 
had first throbbed upon a throne, instead of in a cellar in 
the Rue Rochefort.” 

She sighed long and heavily. A ray of the declining sun 
shone on her beautiful hair, transforming it into molten 
gold; her glorious eyes were fixed beseechingly on Eustace’ 
face. Could principle and prejudice, however strong, cope 
successfully with the mighty power of a love like this? 
Poor Detlef! How hard it would be to do right! 

“Go! ’’she cried, suddenly and impetuously, pushing 


188 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


him toward the door, “go and wait for Detlef, and then 
bring him to me. I must see him. Cost me what it may, 
he must hear this from my lips alone.” 

“ Yes, yes, that will be best. I will go to his rooms and 
wait for him. He will go there first.” 

She eagerly assented, but after he had gone, she sat down 
and began to weep again. Suddenly Frau von Bogdanoff 
appeared before her, looking very pale in the gathering 
twilight. 

“ Ferra, it was very wrong in you not to be perfectly 
frank with me.” 

She spoke quietly; in fact, her voice betrayed no special 
emotion. 

“ Did you ever encourage me to give you my confi- 
dence? ” asked her companion, throwing her head back 
wearily. 

Maria Paulowna coughed. The reproach struck home. 
Approaching Ferra, she gently stroked her burning fore- 
head. 

“ My dear child,” she said, sadly,“ this world is a strange 
compound of cruelty and indifference. So long as it can feign 
ignorance, it sanctions anything; but as soon as it is forced 
to open its eyes, it remorselessly tears its unfortunate vic- 
tim into a thousand pieces. It will be so in your case. 
What can we do?” 

“ Nothing,” answered Ferra, despondently. 

“ I can not make up my mind to that yet. Perhaps some 
plan may occur to me. But will Rommingen submit to this 
insult? ” 

Ferra threw up her arms with an agonized gesture. 
Maria Paulowna glanced at her cousin’s face, and then 
turned silently away. 

Suddenly she found herself clasped in a warm embrace. 

“How good you are! ” Ferra whispered, gratefully. 

“Good’ I’m not so sure about that; but when I saw 
them all rush at you like a pack of wolves, I felt that I 
must do what I could for you. There is not one among 
them all that doesn’t carry a tolerably big burden of sin 
around with her, and without the slightest inconvenience, 
too, provided other people know nothing about it. I 
haven’t done with that woman yet, I can tell you. And 
now, my dear, do be sensible.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


189 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Prince Dagobert and his adjutant returned home about 
sunset, in the best of spirits. As they reached the steps 
of the castle, his highness turned to his companion. 

“ The rest of the evening belongs to your fair betrothed,” 
he said, with a gracious wave of the hand. “ It would be 
cruel in me to detain you any longer.” 

Detlef thanked him heartily, for he was longing to hasten 
to Ferra; but just as he was leaving the court-yard, a foot- 
man came running after him. 

“ Her highness wishes to see Count Rommingen a 
moment,” he panted, breathlessly. 

As Detlef involuntarily glanced up at the wing of the 
castle occupied by the princess and her attendants, he fan- 
cied he saw a curtain move as if some person stood behind 
it, watching. 

“ Does her highness desire my immediate attendance? ” 
he inquired, dubiously. 

“Yes, Herr Count.” 

Detlef turned and walked back to the castle. What 
could it be? Some commission, probably. Well, the sooner 
he received it, the sooner he would be free. 

He found the princess alone. Even Fraulein von Nobbe 
was not visible. The doors leading into the broad balcony 
that overlooked the garden were open, and the balmy 
spring air floated in, swaying the rich curtains gently to and 
fro; and the crimson light of the setting sun shone on the 
broad-leaved aloes iu the bronze urns on the balustrade. 
Detlef recollected afterward that he noticed all this, as 
well as the clear sky in which the stars were appearing, one 
by one, and the tall tree-tops just bursting into leaf. 

The princess advanced and offered him her hand. She 
seemed greatly agitated. 

“ Count Rommingen, there is something I wish to say to 
you,” she began. 

Detlef bowed low over her extended hand, but felt rather 
annoyed, nevertheless. Whenever her highness had some- 


190 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


thing to say to him, it was pretty sure to be of a disagree- 
able nature. 

“You seem to dread, what is coming,” remarked Sibylle, 
bitterly, for she had noticed his involuntary recoil. “You 
have reason to, unfortunately. It seems to be decreed 
by fate that I should be the one to give you pain. I do so, 
however, with the hope that you will be grateful to me by 
and by, though you may resent it now.” 

Detlef gazed searchingly at the agitated face before 
him, and, as he gazed, he noticed in her eyes the same 
peculiar and intensely eager expression which he had 
remarked first at the opera, and which he had then attrib- 
uted to the gaslight. This time, the light could not be 
held accountable, for it was nearly dusk. 

“ I am listening, your Highness.” 

She laid her hand lightly on his arm. 

“ You hold a high place in my esteem. Count Rommingen. 
I respect and esteem you as a woman of principle must 
respect and esteem a man whose every act is governed by 
principle. I can not bear to see you basely deceived: to 
see you bound for life to one who is utterly unworthy of 
you.” 

He drew back as if some one had struck him. He bit 
his lip, and the veins in his forehead swelled ominously. 

“ Your Highness — ” 

Her hold on his arm tightened. 

“ Hear me out first,” she cried, imperiously. 

“Yes, I am alluding to the Princess Arbanoff, your 
betrothed. She has deceived you, as she has deceived all 
the rest of us; and that being the case, even your plighted 
word no longer binds you to her. You are free, Rom- 
mingen.” 

“Free!” he exclaimed, throwing back his head haugh- 
tily. “ I have no desire to be free, for I love her.” 

The princess gave a shrill laugh. 

“You love an adventuress! Why a mere acquaintance 
with one like her is a blot upon your family escutcheon. 
No, oh no! I have too high an opinion of you to feel any, 
doubt of your decision when you know all.” 

“A man’s love must be worth very little, your Highness, 
if he has no confidence in the woman he loves,” Rom- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


191 


mingen spoke quietly, but very firmly. “Your usually clear 
and lenient judgment is certainly at fault in this instance, 
though I do not doubt that you are perfectly sincere in your 
belief that you are right. I, on the other hand, am the 
Princess Arbanoff’s natural protector, and I am not dis- 
posed to doubt her without good and sufficient cause.” 

“You do not believe me. 1 expected as much,” mur- 
mured Sibylle. “ But what will you say when I tell you that 
the Princess Arbanoff was born in the Rue Rochefort, one 
of the worst haunts of poverty and vice in Paris; and that 
she was purchased of her parents there by a wealthy young 
man, with whom she lived until old Prince Arbanoff, infat- 
uated by this child of the slums, so far forgot his rank as 
to marry her. One surely need not be very evil-minded to 
draw a rather unfavorable inference from all this.” 

“ I 'know there is not a single word of truth in this base 
slander,” declared Rommingen, stoutly. 

“ Then why has she maintained such a profound silence 
in regard to this period of her life? Why has she never 
spoken to you or to Frau von Bogdanoff about it? I see 
that you, too, have had no knowledge of these things.” 

“ I never have had, nor have I now. Who told you this, 
your Highness? By heaven, your informant will have a 
score to settle with me! ” he exclaimed, his breath coming 
hard and fast. 

“ You must not ask me that. I solemnly promised that 
I would never reveal his name.” 

Detlef laughed scornfully. 

“ Do you suppose I place any credence in an anonymous 
report; in a slander whose originator hides himself behind 
the skirts of your Highness’ robe? No! Your Highness 
will, I am sure, excuse me now. You must understand my 
anxiety to hasten to my betrothed as soon as possible.” 

Again the princess drew a little nearer; again she laid 
her hand beseechingly on his arm. 

“ My poor friend,” she said, huskily, “ I know only too 
well how violently one struggles against the certainty of 
baseness and treachery on the part of one who is dear to 
us. I myself have experienced it, but I tell you there is no 
help for it. The knowledge comes, clear, convincing, 
unquestionable. The very struggle now going on in your 


192 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF RARIS. 


soul proves that your heart and judgment are at variance. 
It speaks louder than any words. Rommingen, do not 
look so utterly heart-broken. Be a man! ” 

“ I am not heart-broken, nor am I in the least con- 
vinced,” he answered, sturdily. But even as he spoke, he 
was conscious of a sickening dread he could not drive 
away. 

“This afternoon, at the bazaar,” continued Sibylle, “I 
was obliged to give the Princess Arbanoff distinctly to 
understand that she was no longer included in my circle of 
acquaintances. She submitted to my decision without a 
protest — she could hardly have done otherwise under the 
circumstances — so there can not be the slightest doubt of 
the truth of what I have just told you. You, Count Rom- 
mingen, are unquestionably one of the few men who deem 
integrity and honor the most precious of all earthly pos- 
sessions; for no misfortune, not even death itself, can rob 
us of them. They are ours inalienably.” 

Her tone was one of profound conviction, and every 
word found an echo in Rommingen’s breast. He bit his 
lip until it bled, to repress the groan of anguish that 
threatened to burst from him. Indescribable desolation 
reigned within and around him, and still Sibylle continued 
piteously. “Any suffering can be borne if one will but 
nerve oneself to bear it. You, too, will learn to forget, 
Rommingen. It is a dreary assurance, perhaps, but it is a 
true one. I seem cruel, perhaps, but it is the cruelty of the 
surgeon who cuts deep and unflinchingly, but for his 
patient’s best good. I do it to save you; that thought 
has alone given me courage. The woman you have chosen 
could never make you happy. You deserve more, because 
you have so much more to give in return.” 

She paused, overcome with emotion. The shades of 
night veiled the spacious apartment in gloom. A white 
moth flew in at the open window, and flitted noiselessly 
about, and a slender ray of moonlight rimmed the broad 
leaves of the plant near the window with silver. A pro- 
found silence reigned. 

Suddenly a hand grasped Rommingen’s. 

“Speak — say but a single word! ” murmured Sibylle’s 
voice. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


193 


He could not; his voice failed him utterly. 

“ Oh, if I could only console you,” she whispered. “ I 
take such an interest in you. I — Oh, my God! Shall 1 
become a traitor to myself — only to show you that fate is 
equally cruel to us all.” 

“Your Highness! ” stammered Rommingen, tearing his 
hand from her grasp. He could deceive himself no longer. 
Her words, her tone, and her trembling hand revealed the 
truth only too plainly. 

“ Is not the love that drains one’s very life-blood as 
intolerable upon a throne as-in a hovel?” she whispered 
passionately, clinging to his shoulder. “O Rommingen, 
'though you may be unhappy, I am even more wretched. 
Can we not comfort each other? ” 

The scales fell from his eyes. The anonyrfious letter 
recurred to his mind. Princess though she was, she had 
given him her love unasked. Oh! the strange mixture of 
tragedy and comedy in this life of ours. He laughed 
aloud, bitterly, scornfully. He could not help it. 

Sibylle shuddered. 

“ Have you no other answer to give me? ” she faltered, 
tearfully, but angrily. 

“Forgive me, your Highness,” said Detlef, recollecting 
himself; “it is all so strange. I — I must ask you to excuse 
me. I — I must go — ” 

“To her? ” 

“I — I think so; yes! ” 

“You shall not,” and once again she laid a detaining 
hand on his arm. “ She will weave her toils around you 
afresh; and I will not — do you hear me — I will not permit 
one I have esteemed so highly heretofore to be thus 
degraded.” 

Her whole being seemed to glow with passion. Such an 
outburst from one who has always been considered cold by 
nature rarely fails to astound those who witness it, and 
this was the case with Rommingen. Besides, Sibylle 
suddenly began to sob and tremble so violently that, in 
spite of his aversion, he felt obliged to put his arm around 
her waist and assist her to a sofa. 

“ I will call Fraulein von Nobbe,” he remarked, glad of 
any excuse for leaving the room. 

13 


194 


THE FLOWER GIRT. OF PARIS. 


“ No, remain one moment. There is surely no need for 
any one else to witness my weakness.” 

With a powerful effort, she suppressed her sobs. 

“Forget this,” she faltered, almost inaudibly, after a 
slight pause. 

As he bent forward to catch her words, he suddenly 
felt his face clasped between two hot, trembling hands, and 
two ice-cold lips just touch his forehead. 

“ Go,” she said, in a voice that sounded more like her 
own, “and let this hour be forgotten by both of us.” 

He obeyed, without uttering a word of farewell. The 
princess listened, as the door closed behind him, and a 
smile of intense bitterness played about her lips. Never 
in her whole life had she so keenly realized, and so bitterly 
deplored, her lack of personal charms. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

When Fraulein von Nobbe came in, a short time after- 
ward, she found her royal mistress lying motionless on the 
sofa. Supposing the princess asleep, she bent cautiously 
over her, and was startled to see two dull, haggard eyes, 
with dark circles under them, gazing up at her from out of 
a pallid face. 

“Good heavens! are you ill, your Highness?” inquired 
the maid-of-honor, much alarmed. 

“ No, Amanda, I am only cold,” and the princess shivered. 

“ It is from the draught. The balcony doors are still 
open. How imprudent! ” exclaimed Amanda, reprovingly, 
as she hastily closed the door. 

The princess rose to her feet, and stood motionless for a 
moment in the middle of the room, with her hands pressed 
tightly upon her bosom. The silver-gray sky was plainly 
visible through the closed balcony doors, and against it 
the tall black silhouette of a woman’s form stood out in 
bold relief — erect and proud for a moment — then the head 
drooped, and a low moan quivered through the air. 

Greatly agitated, Fraulein von Nobbe hastily approached 
the princess. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


195 


“ His highness, Prince Dagobert,” she said, warningly. 

Sibylle straightened herself up. 

“Lights!” she ordered, in her usual tone; and by the 
time the candles were lighted, she had quite regained her 
wonted composure. 

The prince was evidently much annoyed, for there was a 
heavy cloud upon his brow. 

“I wish to speak with you alone,” he said, brusquely, 
with an angry glance at the maid-of-honor. 

Amanda beat a hasty retreat. The princess rested one 
hand on the table, and stood quietly watching her husband 
as he tramped angrily up and down the room. 

“You have seen fit, in my absence, to offer a gross insult 
to one of my friends, and thus create a serious scandal,” 
he exclaimed, tugging fiercely at his mustache. “Why 
did you do it? Was it absolutely necessary? I think you 
would have done well to collect your proofs first.” 

“An insult! a scandal!” she repeated, deliberately. 
“ You are very much mistaken, Dagobert. I simply 
availed myself of my undoubted right to’ exclude objec- 
tionable persons from my circle of friends.” 

“ But how do you know that what you heard is true? 
You have condemned a person hastily, and probably 
unjustly, merely because you wished to do so. Who was 
your obliging informant, may I ask? ” 

He paused directly in front of her, and looked her full in 
the face. She shrugged her shoulders. 

“I shall not tell you. But if you do not believe this 
report, why do you question me; why do you not go to her, 
and ask an explanation? Take care, though, that she does 
not bewitch you again with those siren eyes of hers. She is 
an adept in the art of fascinating men, this princess of the 
slums! ” There was such intense scorn, and even hatred, in 
her tone, that Prince Dagobert’s face reddened angrily. 

“ You envy her and fear her; that is the real explanation 
of your shameful conduct,” he retorted, savagely. “But 
will you not have the goodness to recollect that you have 
seriously compromised us both, and, in fact, our entire 
court? Don’t you know that the newspapers are sure to 
get hold of the affair, and give a garbled version of it to 
their readers? Do you forget that we owe it to our exalted 


196 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


position not to allow our names to become mixed up in 
any scandal? That we — ” 

“ You tell me this! ” she exclaimed, with a sneering 
emphasis that made each word sting like the cut of a lash. 
“ Of course that is the rule that has governed your every 
action — ” 

“It is very different with us men,” he stammered, after 
an instant's hesitation. “ But I certainly have no cause to 
reproach myself so far as the Princess Arbanoff is con- 
cerned.” 

“ Don’t give yourself too much credit on that account,” 
she retorted, scornfully. “ It was no fault of yours that 
she honored another with her preference.” 

“ Of course you have hopelessly alienated Rommingen 
from us by your behavior. He is not the man to remain at 
court under the circumstances, no matter how humbly we 
apologize.” 

“ What difference will it make to him, after she leaves 
D , pray?” 

“ You think he will give her up?” 

‘ I am positive of it.” 

“Then he’s a fool,” he retorted, bluntly, 

“A fool! Thank God! there are still men who are willing 
to be called fools for honor’s and duty’s sake.” 

“ How terribly strict you are in your notions, Sibylle. 
You would think and act very differently, I fancy, if you 
had ever been tempted.” 

Her eyes flashed fire. 

“ Silence, Dagobert,” she cried, gaspingly. Then recover- 
ing herself, she added, coldly, “ It is useless to continue this 
discussion. We should never view the matter in the same 
light, or understand each other’s feelings. What seems 
perfectly right and natural to you, shocks me; and what- 
ever I like is equally odious to you. It will be much 
better, consequently, for us both to go our separate ways 
as our judgment may dictate, entirely regardless of each 
other.” 

“But what if these paths should conflict, Sibylle?” he 
asked, suspiciously. 

“ In that case each of us must still do what each believes 
to be right.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


107 


“ That is more easily said than done, perhaps. I, for 
instance, feel strongly inclined to say a word or two to the 
Princess Arbanoff, that would pave the way for a recon- 
ciliation, if you come to the conclusion that you have acted 
with undue haste in this matter.” 

“ If you should so far forget yourself as to yield to this 

inclination, I should leave D that very day and return 

to my father. You would then have the pleasure of know- 
ing that our private affairs were public property. It is for 
you to decide.” 

Prince Dagobert ground his teeth. His heart swelled 
with futile rage. 

“Oh, this accursed slavery!” he muttered. “Would I 
were a tradesman or a peasant! What an unspeakable com- 
fort it would be to be able to act in accordance with one’s 
feelings.” 

The princess shrugged her shoulders, and turned away. 

“We are all slaves!” she retorted, sententiously, think- 
ing of the daily struggles in store for her. 

Prince Dagobert left the room, without uttering another 
word. But for the rich portieres, the numerous footmen 
standing about, and Fraulein von Nobbe’s angular form in 
the background, he would probably have given vent to his 
feelings by slamming the door behind him; but even this 
slight consolation was denied him. He was obliged to 
swallow his wrath in silence; no very easy task, by the way. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

As Detlef von Rommingen left the castle, and stepped out 
into the cool night air, he sighed deeply, as if in the hope 
of removing the mountain that seemed to be resting upon 
his breast, but the act afforded him no relief. The terrible 
load that was weighing down heart and brain made calm 
reflection an impossibility. The manifold occasions when 
Ferra’s behavior had surprised him, and even offended 
his fastidious taste, recurred to his mind, and strange to 
say he almost began to believe what Sibylle had told him. 

Could it be possible that he did not love Ferra as 


198 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


ardently and devotedly as he had supposed? He groaned, 
for even as he asked himself the question, he became only 
too conscious of the truth of a saying he had stoutly 
contradicted only a short while before, viz., “Friendship 
must be founded upon esteem; but this is not the case with 
love, for esteem can neither beget love nor destroy it.” 
He had felt secure, inasmuch as he believed that love 
without esteem would be an impossibility so far as he was 
concerned; but now, as Ferra’s image rose before him in all 
its radiant loveliness, his pulses began to throb wildly. 
Must he give her up? Could he do it? 

On his right lay the street leading to the Bogdanoff 
mansion. Should he hasten to her? But wildly as he 
longed to see her, he was at the same time fully conscious 
that once in her presence he would be powerless to judge 
impartially; that he would become her abject slave for the 
rest of his life. 

No! he would not go. 

Half unconsciously he clutched the breast of his uniform, 
as if to hold himself back. He fairly gasped for breath, like 
a drowning man, as he turned and walked toward his lodg- 
ings with tired, dragging steps, and forehead covered with 
big drops of sweat. He must weigh this matter well. But 
how could he reflect with this bewildered brain and aching 
heart? There was a wild conflict raging in his soul 
between honor, name, and position on one side, and on the 
other, love; his first and only love. 

He staggered as he ascended the steps leading to his 
room, but before he had touched the knob, the door was 
hastily thrown open, and Von Deuren appeared on the 
threshold. 

“Thank heaven! you are here at last, Detlef,” he 
exclaimed, in a tone of relief. “ I have been waiting a 
long time.” 

Rommingen made no reply as he mechanically entered 
the room, and closed the door behind him. 

“ Leave me alone, please,” was all he said. 

Von Deuren was watching him uneasily. His friend’s 
intense pallor and unnatural manner terrified him. 

“Detlef,” he began, hesitatingly. 

Rommingen had thrown himself into an easy-chair, and 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


199 


was beating time on the arm of it with one of the tassels 
that hung from a corner of the back. 

“ I have a great deal to do,” he interrupted, speaking in 
the same hollow, constrained tone he had used before. 

Eustace ventured a little nearer, and laid his hand 
affectionately on his friend’s shoulder. 

“ Detlef, there is something I wish to say to you.” 

“ It is needless; I know already.” 

Though the young officer was not wholly unprepared for 
this announcement, he could not repress an exclamation of 
dismay. 

“Who told you?” he exclaimed. 

“ That is immaterial. I know all.” 

The tassel still swayed to and fro with the regularity of 
a pendulum; but for this movement, the strong, manly form 
remained perfectly motionless. 

“ And — and — ” 

“Do not ask me! ” interrupted Detlef, hastily, in a tone 
of agony that cut his young friend to the heart. 

“ But I must ask you — in her name,” he said at last, with 
a very perceptible tremor in his voice. “ Detlef, for 
heaven’s sake do not be hasty; do not condemn before 
you have investigated the matter yourself. The world is 
so unjust — ” 

Detlef slowly turned and gazed at his friend, as if he were 
trying to read his inmost soul. 

“ Have you any faith in the consolation you offer me? ” 
he asked, slowly. 

Eustace averted his eyes. No, he had not. Deeply 
depressed, but with intense anxiety in look and voice, he 
began anew. “ But promise me you will not decide rashly, 
Detlef; time effaces so much. I implore you — Oh, God!” 
he exclaimed, stamping his foot in desperation, “ what a 
fool I am not to be able to tell you what is in my heart.” 

“ Be calm, my boy; I understand you.” 

Yes, it was Detlef ’s voice again, Detlef ’s dear old voice; 
the voice that had so often kindly admonished this hot- 
headed youth. 

“But what am I to say to her?” asked Von Deuren at 
last, rather timorously. 

“Whatever you think best; but I can not see her; at 

least, not now; no, not now.” 


200 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


' But she is expecting you.” 

“ I can not see her. I tell you, I can not! ” he groaned. 
“ Don’t you understand that if I should see her my reso- 
lution would fail me. Passion is far stronger than we 
dream, as you yourself will find when you come to know 
it. Leave me, Eustace. I want to be alone. Go, my 
boy, it is late. You will be on duty to-morrow, and I have 
my resignation still to write,” 

‘•O Detlef, that too?” 

“Most assuredly, first of all. Do you think I could 
remain here among these people? Impossible! ” 

Great as was the young officer’s dismay, he ventured no 
further remonstrance. 

“ May not all yet be well? ” he asked, with a deep sigh. 

Rommingen shook his head. 

“ I must choose between a stain on my family escutcheon, 
or — it is better that the last Rommingen should die alone- 
and unlamented.” 

“You will learn to forget, Detlef.” 

The adjutant only laughed, but it was such a strange, 
mirthless laugh that Von Deuren knew not what to think. 

“Tell Ferra, when you see her, that I loved her better 
than anything in the world except my honor; and I bear her 
no ill will, though it would have been better if she had kept 
nothing from me. Still, I make no complaint. One must 
not expect too much. Farewell, Eustace.” 

He pushed him gently toward the door, gazing earnestly 
all the while at the handsome, youthful face, in which such 
conflicting emotions could be plainly read. 

“ Must I really leave you by yourself? ” he asked, uneasily. 

“Yes; farewell, Eustace.” 

“ Good-night, then, if you will have it so.” 

“ Farewell, farewell,” the adjutant answered, yet again. 

The words, and the tone of profound melancholy in which 
they were uttered, depressed the young hussar deeply, 
and it was with a troubled heart that he left the room. In 
the hall he met Friedrich, his friend’s valet. 

“What has happened, Herr Lieutenant?” the old man 
asked, anxiously, wringing his hands. “ I never saw my 
young master like this before. I’ll warrant some accursed 
woman is at the bottom of it,” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


201 


“I don’t know, Friedrich.” 

“ Oh, Herr Lieutenant, do drop in again this evening, 1 
beg of you,” whispered the old man, confidentially. ‘‘I 
don’t know what to do about the count. He looks exactly 
as his father did the night he sent a bullet through his 
brain, just after the countess’ funeral — ” 

“ Good God! ” muttered Eustace, under his breath. 

“ Speaking out does no harm — it relieves the heart,” 
remarked Friedrich, philosophically, and with a hasty nod 
of assent, Eustace rushed out of the house. 

The very fear Friedrich had expressed had haunted him 
persistently all that evening. In imagination he saw Detlef 
lying dead before him. Dead! dead! No, by heaven! that 
should not be. Measures must be taken to avert such a 
calamity as that. For one moment he stood in the street, 
undecided what course to pursue; then he turned and 
rushed off in the direction of the Bogdanoff mansion, where 
lights were still burning brightly. 

Detlef heaved a sigh of relief when he found himself 
once more alone. Every word and look of his devoted 
young friend had touched his heart deeply, but had been 
powerless to alter his decision. Besides, Von Deuren, in 
spite of his sympathy, had only confirmed what the princess 
had said. There was no possible doubt or question now. 

He seated himself at his writing-table, and leaned his 
head upon his hand, his breast heaving painfully the while. 
All was over now. His happiness, his hopes, and his love 
were blighted irretrievably. With a firm hand he penned 
his resignation from the prince’s service, never pausing 
until he had appended his name to it. He gazed at the 
name long and silently. This paper would be found here 
when he was dead; and with him the name of Rommingen 
would become extinct. Should he leave a farewell for 
Ferra? While his heart prompted it, reason forbade it. 
Why deepen the wounds that already existed? The knowl- 
edge that she had been concealing something from him all 
this time stung him deeply. One of the first requisites of 
perfect love is perfect confidence, and though she had 
certainly loved him, she had as certainly deceived him. 

What if he had made this discovery later — after she had 


202 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


become his wife? He shuddered at the thought. In that 
case, too, the only escape from the dilemma would have 
been the voluntary renunciation of life. Could he bear to 
have people make whispered comments and shrug their 
shoulders significantly when his wife’s name was mentioned? 
The mere thought of such a thing sent his blood rushing 
wildly to his brain. He seemed to see his long line of 
ancestors gazing sternly down upon the unworthy descend- 
ant who had bestowed his love upon a woman so unworthy; 
and last came his beautiful grandmother, with the snow- 
white hair, asking reproachfully, “ Can this really be my 
successor in your heart?” 

He bowed his head upon his breast, and groaned aloud 
in his anguish; then, prompted by some mysterious impulse, 
he suddenly looked up. Before him on the writing-table 
stood a portrait of Ferra, Laudin had painted for him. 
Yes, there was her face confronting him — her face, in all 
its radiant beauty; that half-wistful, half-tantalizing smile 
on the red lips, the wonderfully beautiful hair, and still 
more wonderful eyes. In a paroxysm of anguish, he turned 
the picture to the wall. 

“ I must not look at her if I would remain worthy of 
thee, my beloved grandmother,” he murmured. 

Hastily rising, he opened a cabinet, and took out a small 
case containing a miniature silver-mounted ivory revolver, a 
present from the prince. When his eyes fell upon it, he 
seemed to become perfectly calm. 

A slight pressure on the trigger and all would be over. 
How often he had known comrades to spend a gay evening 
with friends, and then put a sudden end to their lives for 
some much more trivial cause — pecuniary difficulties, per- 
haps. 

He took up the weapon. It seemed as light as a feather 
in his hand, and yet it had the power to destroy a human 
life. The gaslight shone brightly on the prince’s crest and 
initials as Rommingen raised the weapon to his forehead. 
How strange it was that he felt so perfectly calm. The 
inherent inclination to cling to life is strong in every human 
breast; the determination to destroy oneself is in direct 
opposition to this inclination; hence this calmness on his 
part was an example of the triumph of the will over natural 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


203 


instinct. Some such thoughts as these were floating 
confusedly through his brain as he raised the revolver. 

“ Detlef, Detlef! ” The name was not uttered aloud, 
but breathed in a terrified whisper, while two clasped hands 
were outstretched to him imploringly. On her knees, at 
his feet, was Ferra. 

With a half-stifled cry, Rommingen sprang up and gazed 
down at the kneeling form before him. No, it was no hal- 
lucination. It was Ferra, but oh! how changed. There 
was no fascinating gleam in the tear-stained eyes upraised 
to his. The face was ghastly in its pallor, the hair wildly 
disheveled. The white lace scarf she had hastily wrapped 
around her head had slipped down upon her shoulders, but 
an unwonted charm, an essentially feminine grace, seemed 
to envelop her. 

He covered his eyes with his hands. “ Go! for God’s 
sake, go! ” he groaned. 

Eustace von Deuren, perceiving that the supreme moment 
had come, slipped noiselessly into the adjoining room, 
where he began to pace the floor in the wildest excitement. 
Had he acted wisely? Oh, heaven! had he acted wisely? 

“You would condemn me without a hearing?” urged 
Ferra. “ Is that just? ” 

“Would you have me show my weakness? Would you 
subject me to another agonized struggle between love and 
duty? Ah! you have no idea how terrible it is for me.” 

She shook her head and slowly rose to her feet. 

“You need not fear the result,” she said, bitterly. “I 
know that a man’s love must be measured by an entirely 
different standard from a woman’s. Do you suppose I 
should ever have asked or cared to know exactly where 
your ancestral roof stood? I loved you, and that was 
enough for me.” 

“And yet you deceived me.” 

“Yes, but only because I wished to spare you annoy- 
ance. I attached too little importance to such matters, 
possibly, but my punishment has been severe enough, and I 
beseech you, Detlef, make it no harder. How could I live bur- 
dened with the thought that I had been the cause of your 
death? I could not bear it. Here! ’’her voice faltered, her 
face flushed and paled by turns as, with trembling fingers, she 


204 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


drew off her betrothal ring and laid it on the table. “Now 
I know you can not bear the thought of the slightest stain 
upon my past, I can remain here no longer. I return to 
Russia to-morrow. You are free, the bond between us is 
severed; but live, Detlef! You will soon forget me. Live, I 
beseech you!” 

She gazed up at him with such a passion of entreaty in 
her eyes that he was obliged to fold his arms tightly upon 
his breast to keep from clasping her to his heart. 

“ Do you know what you ask? ” he muttered, between 
his set teeth, his eyes glowing like molten lava. 

“Yes, I do know; but Detlef, would it not be cruel to 
punish me so terribly for what was certainly no fault of 
mine? If you had been born in the Rue Rochefort, instead 
of me, and people had taunted you with it so cruelly — ” 

Her voice broke, and two big tears rolled down her wan 
cheeks. 

He laughed aloud, a harsh, discordant laugh. 

“ Why do you speak of that? Why do you avoid all 
mention of the real cause of our separation? Your birth! 
What do I care about your birth? ” 

She gazed up at him with wildly staring eyes, one hand 
pressed tightly upon her heart. 

“ My God, Detlef! ” she faltered, faintly. 

“You yourself are to blame if I allude to it.” 

He grasped her arm as if he would crush it, and his 
pallid face was close to hers as she waited with breathless 
eagerness, the whole strength of her nature concentrated in 
her questioning eyes. 

“ What were you doing in the Arbanoff palace — for 
months — with the young prince? Do you suppose the 
world is so large that a — a woman’s shame can be swal- 
lowed up in it and leave no trace behind? ” 

With a cry of intense indignation she pushed him vio- 
lently from her. Every trace of softness had vanished; 
both her look and her voice were full of wrath and horror. 

“ You believed that. You, Detlef! ” she exclaimed, pas- 
sionately. “ I might not wonder at it so much in others; 
they scarcely know me; they do not love me; but you — 
yon! ” 

There was a stern, bitter expression on her face as she 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


205 


turned away. The conviction that he had grossly wronged 
her forced itself upon him with resistless power, and rapt- 
ure unspeakable drowned every other emotion. He gazed 
at her with all his eyes for one moment, and still another, 
then threw himself at her feet with a wild inarticulate cry. 

“Ferra, Ferra! ” he exclaimed, burying his face in the 
folds of her dress. 

She gazed down at him in silence. 

Startled by the cry. Von Deuren thrust his flushed face 
through the portiere and sawRommingen at Ferra’s feet. 

“Frailty thy name is — man!” he murmured, discreetly 
disappearing again. 

“ Can you ever forgive me? ” asked Detlef, with a timid, 
imploring glance upward. 

Ferra set her foot on the little revolver that had fallen on 
the floor. 

“ And you thought death preferable to asking me an 
honest question?” she asked, reproachfully. “Why did 
you not come to me? ” 

“Because I believed the vile insinuation,” he admitted, 
shamefacedly. “ A man is so prone to sin himself, that he 
is very likely to be hasty and uncharitable in his verdicts. 
But you made no attempt to contradict the report or to 
explain it; and you must admit, Ferra, that the whole affair 
is so remarkable in its way, and is so improbable — ” 

“ That it well nigh cost you your life,” she interrupted, 
smiling down at him, for the clouds were evidently begin- 
ning to break away, and Ferra was ever more ready to 
laugh than to weep. “But you forget Clarisse, the old 
housekeeper. Why, Clarisse was so frightfully strict and 
prudish — ” 

“ But you were seen at the theater, and your name was 
coupled with that of the young prince — ” 

“ True; but how improbable the story seems, when you 
remember that Achilles’ father married me afterward,” 
she said, naively, and with perfect frankness. “But the 
only person who never doubted me, perhaps, was Constan- 
tine, so he alone can have truly loved me.” 

“ Ferra, Ferra! ” he cried, passionately. 

“Yes,” she replied, freeing herself from his embrace, 
“you really do not deserve that I should love you so, and 


206 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


it will be much better for us to part, Detlef,” she added, 
sadly. “The phantom of the past might continue to haunt 
you, and I could not bear that.” 

“ Is there no way of banishing it forever? ” he asked, for 
her words made him wince. 

She shook her head sadly. “ Achilles has hated me ever 
since my marriage.” 

“ Have you any idea who it was that first circulated the 
atrocious slander here? The Princess Sibylle firmly believes 
it.” 

“ And if I have? ” 

“Was the story told in good faith, or did the person 
really know better? ” 

“ What would you do in the latter case, Detlef? ” 

“ Kill him,” he answered, curtly. 

She pressed her soft cheek to his. “But if fate should 
make you the victim? ” she queried, timidly. 

“ That would matter very little, as I should die in defense 
of your honor and mine.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. She knew that 
Leroy would prove pitiless; why should she expose her 
lover to his fury? Once more she was the weak, timid 
woman, who would rather be guilty of a falsehood than 
imperil her lover’s safety. Certainly she was no heroine. 

“ 1 do not know,” she whispered. “ Who told you? ” 

“The princess,” he answered, after a moment’s hesi- 
tation. 

“ Did she give the name of her informant? ” 

“ No, she absolutely refused to do so.” 

“Thank God! ’’thought Ferra, conscious, for the first 
time, of a feeling of gratitude toward the woman who had 
so cruelly insulted her. 

“Do you trust me now?” she asked, looking at him 
again with the shining eyes and radiant smile peculiar to 
her. Without a word, he clasped her to his heart, and 
covered her lips and hair with passionate kisses. 

Meanwhile Eustace was becoming rather impatient. At 
last he drew aside the portiere, and as he did so, Rommingen 
caught sight of him. 

“ Really, I couldn’t think of any other way,” he stam- 
mered, evidently much embarrassed. “ Friedrich was just 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


207 


as much frightened as I was, and it would have been such 
a pity, such a terrible pity, Detlef,” he added, with a mean- 
ing glance at the revolver. 

“Yes, you have proved yourself a true friend,’' said 
Ferra, holding out her hand to him. “ He understands 
now, of course, how greatly he misjudged me.” 

“Yes, my dear boy, everything is all right now,” 
exclaimed Rommingen, slapping him on the shoulder. “ I 
really blush to think that we men should be so prone to 
suspicion, so loath to believe in the existence of virtue. I 
am unspeakably happy again, my dear Eustace.” 

^ “And now the Princess Arbanoff must be completely vin- 
dicated in the eyes of all the rest of the world! ” exclaimed 
Von Deuren, enthusiastically. “ Some means of doing it 
certainly can be devised. I mean to make it lively for 
these miserable scandal-mongers, the Princess Sibylle 
especially.” 

“The princess,” laughed Ferra. “O Detlef, how 
ungrateful you are. Do you know why she has so perse- 
cuted and slandered me? It is because she loves you 
herself.” 

“ Impossible! ” cried Eustace, in great astonishment. 
“ Why do you think that, madame?” 

“ I don’t think it, I’m sure of it,” responded Ferra, lightly. 
“ Poor princess! I’ve come off victorious after all.” 

Detlef did not utter a word. Knowing the truth of Ferra’s 
assertion even better than she did, it was with an expression 
of relief that he glanced at the letter of resignation on his 
writing-table. Eustace observed the look. 

“ Is that necessary, now, Detlef? ” he asked. 

“ Yes. My wife has an exclusive right to me. I must 
belong to her alone. When we are married we will live on 
my estates at Erdenflueh. Will you not, Ferra?” 

With a radiant smile, she laid her hand in his. 

Meanwhile, Maria Paulowna was restlessly pacing the 
floor of the blue drawing-room, though she would not even 
admit to herself that she felt in the slightest degree anxious. 

“Why on earth should I take any interest in other 
people’s affairs? ” she asked herself, again and again; but 
her heart could not be consoled by any such scraps of phil- 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 




osophy; so after gazing eagerly out of the window a while, 
she walked up to a large mirror and surveyed herself in it. 
Her small, sallow face showed unmistakable signs of agita- 
tion, and, in a futile attempt to regain her wonted state of 
indifference, she pinched herself savagely on the ear. 

“You old, hard-hearted, pitiless vivisector of human 
souls!” she exclaimed, contemptuously; “you look exactly 
as if you were under the knife yourself. Repose of mind 
is possible only to a hermit, it would seem. Bring two 
people together, and there’s an end of it. Poor Ferra! 
But nonsense! she’ll soon forget him. Human grief 
doesn’t last long, thank God! I’ll go with her wherever 
she wishes to go, even to Kamschatka, if she desires it. 
At all events, we’ll turn our backs upon this abominable 
town. And Rommingen — a cold-blooded prig, who attaches 
greater value to his antiquated notions than to life and 
happiness — I have very little use for him.” 

Maria Paulowna worked herself up to such a pitch of 
excitement during this soliloquy that she was positively 
shocked when she caught sight of her distorted features in 
the mirror. After surveying herself with mingled astonish- 
ment and disgust for a while, she burst into a hearty laugh. 
“You’re an old idiot! ” she exclaimed, shaking her finger 
at the image reflected there. “ All your boasted philosophy 
has evidently quite deserted you, as your youthful illusions 
did many long years ago. Constantine Arbanoff was really 
the only sensible one of us all. What would have become 
of the little girl from the Rue Rochefort but for him? She 
would have been ruined and dead long ago. As for you. 
Monsieur Leroy, you just wait. You’ll find it’s no very 
fine thing to make an enemy of Maria Paulowna.” 

She clenched her little hands, sparkling with costly rings, 
and shook them threateningly. 

“A day of reckoning will come, you may rest assured of 
that,” she muttered; “only wait; I must know first what 
is to become of Ferra.” 

And this thorough, full-blooded aristocrat was again 
conscious of a feeling of profound pity and anxiety. 
What could be going on? Von Deuren had appeared so 
terribly agitated and alarmed. 

“ God grant that everything may yet be well, though it 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


209 


is hard to believe it," she sighed, throwing herself into an 
arm-chair. 

At that very instant the door opened, and Ferra entered 
on Rommingen’s arm, closely followed by Eustace. All 
the little Russian’s melancholy disappeared as if by magic. 

“ Is this really you? " she exclaimed, with an ironical 
glance at Rommingen. “ I really did not give you credit 
for so much sense.” 

“Oh, Pussy, pray don’t say any more about it,” pleaded 
Ferra. “It was all so terrible.” 

“ Well, what have you decided to do now? For I conclude 
you have had time to talk the matter over like reasonable 
beings.” 

“ We are both going to Erdenflueh as soon as possible,” 
answered Rommingen. 

“Indeed!”' retorted Maria Paulowna, sarcastically; 
“ after the well-known fashion of the ostrich, I judge. Is 

it possible, Ferra, that you will consent to leave D 

before some reparation has been made for the insult offered 
you? ” 

“ That is as Rommingen decides, for he has perfect con- 
fidence in me now. Pussy.” 

“ I agree with you perfectly,” Von Deuren remarked, con- 
fidentially, to the little Ru.ssian, whose caustic tongue 
usually kept him at a respectful distance. “ Princess 
Sibylle must atone for the scandal she has made, if only 
for Rommingen’s sake; must she not, Detlef? ” 

But Detlef was too much engrossed in something Ferra 
was saying to even hear the remark. 

“Lovers haven’t a grain of sense,” remarked Frau von 
Bogdanoff, shrugging her shoulders. “You and I are the 
only rational creatures here. Listen to me. I have tele- 
graphed Achilles Arbanoff, asking him to come here 
immediately. He will soon slay this hydra-headed mon- 
ster for us!” 

“What is that you are saying?” inquired Ferra. 

“ I was saying that I had sent for Achilles Arbanoff.” 

“ He will not come, he hates me,” answered Ferra, sadly. 

The little Russian straightened herself up proudly. 

“ Even if you were his mortal enemy, you might rest 
assured that he would do everything in his power to vin- 
14 


210 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


dicate your honor,” she answered, with great dignity. “ The 
Arbanoff are all honorable men, thank heaven! I am not 
afraid to pledge my life that he will obey my summons; 
and then we shall have the pleasure of seeing these 
wretches on their knees, begging for forgiveness. What 
will you wager that Prince Dagobert doesn’t give you away 
at the altar, after all?” 

They all smiled at Maria Paulowna’s enthusiasm; but the 
lovers were absorbed in their newly recovered happiness, 
and Eustace was the only person that entered eagerly into 
her plans. 

“ Detlef would approve of them, lam sure,” said Eustace, 
“ but you see he hasn’t time to think of them, just now. 
It is so unpleasant to live under the shadow of a mystery; 
such a burden is likely to mar even the greatest happiness 
at times, so suppose you and I go to work and do what we 
can.” 

“Very well, my dear young friend, though I suppose it’s 
all arrant folly. But now both you gentlemen must 
listen attentively to the announcement I am about to make 
to you, and from which you must understand that there is 
no appeal. My house will be closed to every one for some 
time.” 

“To me, too? ” exclaimed Rommingen, in profound aston- 
ishment and dismay. 

“To you above all others,” was the prompt reply. “ Of 
course Ferra is to be ill; and your duties will keep you at 
the castle, most of the time, anyway.” 

“ I have sent in my resignation.” 

“That is no affair of mine. You can kill time as you 
please, but inside my doors you do not set foot.” 

“Pussy! ” cried Ferra, imploringly. 

But the little Russian only put her hands over her ears. 
“ No, I say! I’m not to be bribed or cajoled, I tell you. I 
know what I’m about. And now good-night. We all need 
rest after such a day as this.” 


tHE FLOWER GIRL OF PARll 


211 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

As Erdmann von Nobbe was walking in the park two 
days afterward, he met Leroy. 

“I was just thinking of paying you a visit,” remarked 
the lieutenant. 

‘‘Has anything new happened?” inquired Leroy, starting 
slightly. 

“ Oh no! I only hear what goes on at the castle, and that 
is little enough. The princess is ill, or pretends to be, 
and the prince is furious.” 

“ And how about Madame Arbanoff? ” 

“ I know nothing at all about her. Rommingen has 
been excused from duty for the present, and Von Deuren has 
taken his place. They say Rommingen intends to resign.” 

“ That looks as if his engagement were broken off,” 
remarked Leroy, with a slight tremor in his voice. 

“I don’t know, but I should judge so. You have heard 
the other report, I suppose? ” 

“ That the princess intends returning to Russia? Yes.” 

“ And that Frau von Bogdanoff is at home to nobody, and 
is only waiting until her cousin’s health is sufficiently 
restored to enable her to travel, to leave D .” 

“What a pity!” 

“Yes, but perfectly natural, under the circumstances. 
What a row it was! ” 

“I, too, think of leaving D ,” remarked the attache, 

carelessly, as he lighted a cigarette. “ This is no place 
for a live man. I want occupation and excitement.” 

Von Nobbe elevated his eye-brows and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“No two men see things exactly alike,” he remarked, 
sententiously. “ As for me. I’ve felt all this past season 
very much as if I were standing on a powder-magazine, 
and had to be constantly on my guard.” 

“ Nonsense! what does it all amount to?” rejoined Leroy, 
indifferently; but all the while he was building a magnifi- 


m 


tHE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


cent castle in the air. Ferra, crushed and heart-broken in 
her Russian home; he, her consoler, and eventually her 
husband. He had acted very cautiously; his name had not 
been mentioned in connection with the affair; his day of 
triumph was now at hand. If he could only secure a little 
more information in regard to the movements of the 
inmates of the Bogdanoff mansion. Even Von Nobbe had 
none to give him. The only thing any one knew for a cer- 
tainty was that the two ladies were seen nowhere. It was 
rumored that they were ill. 

He was so engrossed in these thoughts that he forgot all 
about his companion until he happened to see him raise 
his hand to his hat. 

“To whom did you bow just now?” he asked, seeing a 
carriage, that had just passed them, disappear behind a 
hedge. 

“To Frau von Bogdanoff.” 

“Was she alone? ” 

“Of course. That Sallow little Russian woman’s past 
may, or may not, have been irreproachable, but she is cer- 
tainly no such simpleton as to run any risk of compromis- 
ing herself for the sake of other people’s follies.” 

At that very moment Ferra was sitting quite alone in her 
own drawing-room. 

“ It seems likely to be imprisonment for life to which 
you have condemned me,” she said, half gaily, half sadly, 
when Maria Paulowna came to take leave of her before 
starting on her drive. “ You see that it is useless to count on 
Achilles. Why should he take the trouble to come here. 
He has neither answered your telegram nor taken any 
notice of your letter. What do you expect now? ” 

“ I expect him.” 

“ And how long will it be before you cease to look for 
him? ” 

“ Men are not to be depended upon when their personal 
convenience is involved,” was the rather cynical response. 
“ But don’t be discouraged or impatient, little one.” 

Ferra sighed a little, however, as she plucked a rose from 
a jardiniere and twirled it slowly between her fingers. 
The sunshine streamed through the green net-work of ivy 
and the richly embroidered window shades upon her 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


213 


golden hair, and enveloped her whole form in a sort of 
halo. She leaned back and closed her eyes; her thoughts 
were with Detlef. In a few moments a servant entered 
with a card, which he handed to her in silence. Wonder- 
ing who it could be that had thus ventured to force his way 
into the house in spite of Frau von Bogdanoff’s edict, she 
took the card from the silver tray. 

“ Achilles Arbanoff ” was the nax xe she read beneath the 
engraved coronet. 

A cry escaped her, and she sprang to her feet. He was 
already standing on the threshold; his tall form a trifle 
bowed, but no longer limp and languid. The lids still 
drooped wearily over the deep-set dark eyes, but there was 
no sign of exhaustion on the pale, aristocratic features. 

“ I may come in, may I not?” asked his gentle, languid 
voice. “ Maria Paulowna’s telegram did not find me at 
home. I was in Madrid. I have traveled night and day since 
I received it. I am not too late, I trust.” 

With the lazy grace habitual to him, he sank into an 
arm-chair, gazing intently all the while at Ferra’s beautiful, 
blushing face. 

“ How greatly you have changed,” he remarked at last; 
“ and how strongly you resemble the picture I have raved 
over all my life. You have become much more beautiful, 
Ferra. Who could possibly have foreseen all this?” 

“And I owe it all to you,” she exclaimed, taking his 
hand with the impulsiveness which was one of her chief 
characteristics, and for which she had often been severely 
censured. 

“ To me? Oh yes! I was the tool of destiny, I suppose. 
I learned through Frau von Bogdanoff’s letter that you 
think of marrying again — my fair step-mother.” 

He was still holding her hand fast and gently stroking 
her taper fingers. 

“Yes,” she answered, hurriedly; “ that is, if everything 
can be satisfactorily explained. It must be proved to 
Detlef, beyond any possibility of doubt, that my past has 
been blameless.” 

“Bah! that is of very little consequence, it seems to me, 
so long as he has you.” 

“ But I wish it,” she exclaimed, eagerly. “ No shadow of 


214 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


blame must rest upon me. I want him to be perfectly 
happy.” 

“ Do you love him so much as all that? ” 

“ I could hardly make you understand how much, Prince,” 
she answered, leaning toward him, her eyes sparkling, her 
lips wreathed with smiles. “ It is perhaps because I was 
born in the Rue Rochefort that I never could learn to be 
cold-blooded like you aristocrats.” 

“ It’s a pity,” he said, thoughtfully, but he vouchsafed no 
explanation as to his meaning. 

“Well, Ferra,” he added, after a short pause, “you can 
desire nothing more than I am ready and willing to give 
you, viz., the truth. But tell me, who can have thus 
attempted to defame you without any apparent object. 
Have you any idea who it is?” 

“Leroy,” she answered, promptly. 

“Leroy here! What a strange freak of fortune!” 
Achilles Arbanoff’s voice had become hoarse, and his 
drooping brown eyes looked as if some one had suddenly 
placed a lighted candle behind them, so clear and brilliant 
did they appear. “Tell me, did he ever annoy you 
before? ” 

Ferra looked up at him irresolutely. 

“ Surely you are not afraid to confide in me?” he said, 
smiling. “ Have I not always acted the part of a father 
to you? ” 

He was still holding her hand and gazing down at its 
delicate net-work of blue veins. Ferra blushed again; 
then hastily throwing back her head, she frankly told him 
all that had passed between Leroy and herself. By no 
word or look or gesture did Achilles interrupt her, nor 
did he speak for several minutes after she had concluded 
her story. But at last he said: 

“ It is very fortunate for you that you will soon have a 
husband who is capable of protecting you, Ferra; but for 
that, you would have the entire world against you, men as 
well as women.” 

She shook her head smilingly, as if she doubted the 
truth of his words. 

Another minute and Frau von Bogdanoff burst into the 
room like a whirlwind. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


215 


“ Ha! I knew it! ” she exclaimed, shaking him warmly 
by the hand. ‘‘ So here you are at last! Rommingen has 
been summoned. I sent a messenger for him as soon as I 
saw your card.” 

“ I am very glad, my dear cousin, that you trusted my— 
my step-mother so implicitly.” 

“Nonsense!” she interrupted. “No one is likely to 
accuse me of being too credulous; on the contrary, I am 
generally accused of being suspicious and spiteful, but I 
never had any doubt of Ferra’s purity or of Constantine’s 
honor. Now full reparation shall be made her.” 

“Yes, I intend to request an immediate audience with 
Prince Dagobert.” 

“That is an excellent idea. Rommingen will secure it 
for you through Von Deuren. Prince Dagobert is really a 
very good fellow, but between ourselves, the princess is — ” 

A very opportune fit of coughing prevented the comple- 
tion of the sentence. 

“How long will you remain here, Achille.:, she added. 

“Until I have fulfilled my mission,” he answered, 
quietly; “but I think that will not take long.” 

“We shall see you often, I hope.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Do not ask me to dispose of my time in advance, it is 
too much of a drain upon my energy,” he responded, with 
a faint smile. 

Just then Rommingen was announced, and with a cry of 
joy Ferra hastened forward to meet her lover. 

“ Allow me to congratulate you. Count,” Achilles said, in 
his languid way. “ I see you hold fast to your own, in 
spite of the calumny of the world.” 

“What the world says is always untrue, or at least it is 
so often untrue that one should never believe what it says,” 
interposed Maria Paulowna. “Now we will leave these 
gentlemen alone together for a few moments. Come, 
Ferra.” 

“ I was always an unwelcome burden to him,” Ferra 
remarked to her cousin, as they left the room together, 
for the past recurred very vividly to her mind. 

“ My coming. Count Rommingen, is certainly a sufficient 

refutation of the reproach a scoundrel has dared to cast 


216 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


upon my father’s memory, as well as upon my own honor, 
and that of my step-mother,” said Achilles, as soon as he 
and the count were alone together. “Is any further 
assurance of the absolute falseness of this slander neces- 
sary? ” 

“ No, certainly not.” 

As Achilles saw Rommingen’s face brighten, and his 
breast heave with emotion, he sighed faintly. 

“ It seems to have been my fate to always allow the 
right moment to pass unimproved,” he continued, with a 
slight tinge of irony in his voice. “ I fully intended to 
offer my hand and name to my protegee to atone for the 
injury I had done her in the eyes of the world by my 
thoughtlessness; but I was persuaded by false friends to 
defer this step for a while. I delayed too long; my father, 
more youthful in feelings than I — his son — forestalled me, 
and I don’t think Ferra lost by the exchange.” 

Detlef von Rommingen held out his hand to the speaker. 

“ I thank you. Prince Arbanoff,” he said, forced in spite 
of himself to pay this tribute of respect. “ I thank you 
with all my heart.” 

“Yes, men are fools, and they must expect to be pun- 
ished according to their folly. Strange that this knowledge 
always comes too late! ” remarked Achilles, with a melan- 
choly smile. 

“ And now this slanderer shall be called to an account! ” 
and Detlef’s eyes flashed fire as he spoke. 

“ Do you know who he is? ” 

“ No; but I will devise some way of finding out, never 
fear. I will not call Ferra wife until I have avenged her 
wrongs.” 

“Well, then, I tell you frankly that I can guess who the 
man is. There is an old score to be settled between him 
and me, so allow me the precedence; after that, I will not 
interfere. Now I must go to the castle.” 

They shook hands once more; there was no need of any 
further words; they were both men of honor, and being 
such, understood each other. 

“ Von Deuren, Prince Dagobert’s adjutant, will secure you 
an immediate audience as soon as he learns who you are,” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


217 


remarked Rommingen. “ Shall I give you a few lines inform- 
ing him? ” 

“ If you please.” 

Detlef wrote a few words on the back of a visiting card. 
Meanwhile, Achilles walked to the window. On the oppo- 
site side of the street lay the park, with its luxuriant turf, 
and its soft green foliage, through which the sun was shin- 
ing brightly. A sudden change came over Achilles’ face; 
it took on a hard, even stony expression as he perceived 
two men walking leisurely down the broad pavement; one 
tall and angular, the other small and nattily built. They 
both looked long and searchingly at the Bogdanoff man- 
sion, then turned into a side path leading farther down into 
the park. In spite of the distance, Achilles had instantly 
recognized Anatole Leroy in one of these men. 

He took the card from Detlef’s hand, and with a hasty 
farewell to him and the ladies, he departed. 

'‘’‘Auf wiedersehen! ” Maria Paulowna called after him. 

He merely bowed, and raised his hat; then Ferra, to her 
great astonishment, saw him cross the street and enter the 
park. Every trace of his usual languor had vanished. His 
form had suddenly become erect, and his step light and 
elastic. He looked like a hunter in pursuit of his prey. 

“ How greatly he has changed,” remarked Ferra, as she 
watched him from the window. 

Achilles Arbanoff’s eyes had not deceived him. A short 
distance ahead of him in the narrow pathway he saw the 
two men he was looking for. They were walking slowly; 
he would have no difficulty in overtaking them. He quick- 
ened his step, his chest seemed to expand, his weary eyes 
became clear and bright, some of the vigor and freshness of 
youth seemed to have suddenly returned to him. As he over- 
took the two pedestrians, they both turned hastily, and 
Achilles Arbanoff and Anatole Leroy stood face to face — 
unbounded contempt in the eyes of one, intense hatred and 
dismay in the eyes of the other. The Frenchman drew out 
his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, as if to drive 
away some phantom, but the tall figure before him stood 
its ground. 

“ Viscount Anatole Leroy,” said Achilles, and though he 


218 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


spoke in his usually quiet tone, it sounded like a trumpet 
blast in the attache’s ears, I have followed you because I 
desire to speak with you.” 

The tall lieutenant, after staring at the stranger long 
enough to satisfy himself that he was at least his equal in 
rank, made a motion as if to retire, but Achilles observed it, 
and with a hasty gesture detained him. 

“ Remain, I beg of you,” he remarked, courteously. “ The 
business that brings me here requires a witness.” 

“ And why, Achilles? Surely, what we have to say to each 
other had better be said in private,” interposed Leroy, who 
had recovered his self-possession, at least partially. “ My 
dear Herr von Nobbe — ” 

With a ceremonious bow, Erdmann hastily turned to go, 
for he was eager to make his escape* The stranger’s face 
wore a threatening expression, and Leroy was evidently 
very uneasy. A row seemed imminent; why should he, 
Erdmann, become mixed up in it? He had already turned 
away, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“ I am Prince Achilles Arbanoff, and I am here for the 
purpose of calling this gentleman to account. Have the 
goodness to remain, sir.” 

“ Certainly, certainly! with pleasure,” stammered Von 
Nobbe. 

“ Viscount Leroy, who, in the guise of a friend, was a 
constant visitor at my house, and who was conversant with 
all that occurred there, has had the audacity to basely 
slander my father’s widow here in this town.” 

“ Who says that it was I? ” interrupted Leroy, insolently. 

“ Are you disposed to deny it? ” 

Achilles had drawn off one of his gloves and was now 
twirling it carelessly in his hand. Von Nobbe cast an 
astonished glance at his former friend. 

“ Pray allow me — ” he began, uneasily. 

“To misrepresent facts with the deliberate intention of 
injuring any one — especially a defenseless woman — is, in 
my estimation, a villainous act, for which I feel compelled 
to call the culprit to account,” the cool, quiet voice con- 
tinued. “ This I do in the name of my deceased father, in 
the name of the Princess Arbanoff, my step-mother, and in 
behalf of an old score Still unsettled between us, as well as 
this new one,” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


219 


As he ceased speaking, Achilles Arbanoff struck Leroy 
lightly across the face with his delicate, pearl-gray kid 
glove, very much as if he were brushing away a troublesome 
insect. 

For a second a death-like silence reigned. It was so still 
that the sound made by a dead twig as it fell from a neigh- 
boring tree was distinctly audible. Erdmann von Nobbe, as 
he glanced at the face of his former friend, was stupefied 
with horror. The blue veins stood out plainly on the ashy 
skin, the thin lips were strangely distorted, the pupils of 
the eyes contracted into a tiny black speck, and from 
them flashed such a look of venomous hatred as rarely dis- 
figures the human countenance. For an instant he looked 
as if he were about to spring upon his enemy, but he 
restrained himself. 

“ You are right, Achilles Arbanoff,” he exclaimed, clench- 
ing his fist. “ I have hated you for years, as poverty hates 
wealth, as industry hates idleness. If I could have had my 
way, you would have been sent to perdition long ago. Now 
beware! ” 

Achilles Arbanoff shrugged his shoulders. “ You will 
find me at my hotel at 8 o’clock this evening,” he remarked, 
turning to the tali lieutenant. “ I am a stranger here, and 
it is doubtful if I can secure a second before that time. I 
attach no importance whatever to these formalities, how- 
ever, and am quite willing to consent to anything you may 
propose.” 

Lifting his hat slightly, he turned and walked away with- 
out bestowing another glance on Leroy. 

The two men stood gazing after him in silence. The sun 
was shining brightly on the gravel walk, and the birds were 
singing in the tree-tops; but it was not until Arbanoff was 
almost out of sight that Von Nobbe recovered himself suffi- 
ciently to touch his companion on the arm and ask, “What 
does all this mean?” 

“ It means that I may as well throw down the cards — the 
game is lost,” answered Anatole, with such a shrill, discord- 
ant laugh that a little bird flew away in terror. He threw 
himself down on the nearest bench. The lieutenant stood 
in front of him, in no very enviable frame of mind. 

“You will act as my second, of course, Von Nobbe?" 


220 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


The lieutenant hesitated, but when the viscount fixed his 
steel-gray eyes upon him, he dared not refuse. So twirling 
his eye-glass nervously, “ Of course, of course! ” he repeated, 
slowly, and with evident reluctance. 

“ Especially as you are to blame for it all,” continued 
Leroy. “ If you had held your tongue, the princess would 
never have known anything about the affair.” 

“ I’m perfectly willing to serve you. What more do you 
want?” interrupted the lieutenant, crossly. “But we had 
better decide the conditions of the meeting here and now, 
as I shall have to go on duty very soon.” 

He seated himself on the bench beside Leroy, and after 
a quarter of an hour’s conversation with him, he returned 
home by another road, and in a very dejected frame of 
mind. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

In the meantime, Achilles Arbanoff had taken a carriage 
and driven straight to the castle. There was not the slight- 
est trace of excitement in his languid eyes; one would have 
supposed that he had just returned from a walk. The 
insult offered to Leroy in the park had partially settled a 
debt of hatred that had long weighed heavily upon him, 
for he had loathed and despised Anatole Leroy ever since 
his eyes had been opened to the diplomat’s real character, 
and he had learned how basely and treacherously his false 
friend had plotted to deceive and betray him. 

On arriving at the castle, he asked for Von Deuren, and 
was immediately conducted to the small antechamber over- 
looking the court-yard, where the officers in attendance on 
the prince performed their clerical work or amused them- 
selves, as the case might be. 

Eustace von Deuren was sitting at one end of the big 
writing-table, which presented a remarkably tidy appear- 
ance, for there was really nothing to do just then, and the 
young officer was frightfully bored. 

Since he had been acting as adjutant, he had smoked 
twice his usual number of cigars and cigarettes every day, 
had yawned twice as often and as loudly as usual, and sent 


The flower girL of Paris. 


221 


up a thousand despairing sighs to heaven from his prison- 
cell, as he persisted in styling this little room, where he 
knew the pattern of the wall paper by heart, and there was 
absolutely nothing to be seen from the windows. As a 
natural consequence, the announcement of Prince Arbanoff 
was most welcome, and he hastened to the door to meet 
the gentleman. 

“ May I offer your Highness a chair? I trust you’ll 
excuse its being so dreadfully dark and dismal here,” he 
remarked, cordially. 

“ My business here can very soon be disposed of,” was 
the response; and seating himself, Achilles proceeded to 
state the object of his visit briefly, but clearly. Eustace 
listened intently, his eyes sparkling with delight the while. 
Surely no greater piece of good fortune could have befallen 
Detlef, and the honest youth rejoiced most heartily. 

“When the prince learns the nature of your business, he 
will grant you an interview without delay, I am sure,” he 
exclaimed. “ Of course I say this to you in confidence, 
but Prince Dagobert was furiously angry about this scandal. 
He esteemed the Princess Arbanoff very highly, and — ” 

Achilles nodded. 

“ Do you think I can have an audience with the prince 
in an hour?” he asked. “My time here is very short.” 
With a great jingling of spurs, Eustace hurried out of the 
room, returning shortly after with the announcement that 
his highness would receive the prince in an hour. 

As Eustace was escorting his visitor to the door, Achilles 
paused, and said, “Herr von Deuren, I have a little affair 
of a personal nature to attend to before I leave town. Can 
I count upon your assistance?” 

One quick glance at his visitor’s calm, aristocratic face 
satisfied Eustace. 

“ Pray call upon me at any time, your Highness,” he 
answered, gravely. 

“ The affair to which I allude is a duel. Will you be my 
second? ” 

“ Here in D ?” Von Deuren asked, rather dubiously. 

“Yes; I will explain more fully. It is my intention and 
my right to punish the scoundrel who, despite his entire 
knowledge of the falseness of his assertions, so basely 


The TloWer girl of Paris. 


222 

and maliciously defamed the character of my father’s 
widow.” 

“Then you know who it was?” demanded Von Deuren, 
breathlessly. 

“ Yes; it was Viscount Leroy. But I have a personal 
grudge against him of a much older date which I alone 
can settle. Can I count upon you? Will you assist me in 
the matter? ” 

“With the greatest pleasure.” 

“I must warn you that the consequences may prove 
serious to one in your position.” 

Von Deuren threw back his head proudly. 

“Nonsense! such trivial considerations have no weight 
with me,” he declared, stoutly. “ I am entirely at your 
service, at any time, your Highness.” 

As he stood there, so young and enthusiastic and chival- 
rous, so ready to sacrifice every drop of his heart’s blood 
in support of his convictions, Achilles looked at him and 
sighed. The frank, handsome face had all the charm of 
youth — of that youth which still believes in truth and 
honor, and magnanimity and justice; which still strives 
after the unattainable, and can still bewail its illusions. 
Had he ever been young like that? Prompted by an inex- 
plicable impulse, he hastily held out his hand to the young 
officer, who shook it cordially. 

“ Please make all the necessary arrangements,” said 
Achilles, carelessly. “ I insist upon this condition, how- 
ever: Shots are to be interchanged until one or both of the 
combatants are mortally wounded. Leroy’s second is a 
tall, slender officer of infantry. I do not know his name.” 

“ Von Nobbe, of course,” replied Eustace, contempt- 
uously. 

“ I must also ask you to keep the whole affair a secret, 
if possible. I am specially desirous that it should not 
come to the knowledge of Count Rommingen or his 
betrothed. If I fall, you can take the matter up, if you 
choose, as you know who the scoundrel is. You can do as 
you please about that, however. One word more: The 
sooner the meeting takes place, the better I shall be pleased. 
Auf wiedersehen^ Herr von Deuren.” 

Prince Dagobert was restlessly pacing the floor of his 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


223 


Study. Greatly as his wife’s treatment of the Princess 
Arbanoff had incensed him at first, and bitterly as he had 
reproached her for the part she had played in the affair, he 
nevertheless felt compelled to protect her from the censure 
of others, and to carefully avoid compromising her in any 
way. In this, he was prompted solely by a sense of duty; 
his heart had no part in the matter. 

This being the case, though he received Achilles Arbanoff 
graciously, it was not without a certain amount of reserve; 
and he promptly assured the gentleman that deeply as he 
regretted the events that had occurred, he could not con- 
sider either Frau von Bogdanoff or Ferra entirely free from 
blame. 

“ The only person who is really to blame is myself,” 
responded Achilles, in his quiet way. “ I failed to consider 
the consequences which must inevitably result from our 
every act, as well as the iron barriers behind which all born 
aristocrats intrench themselves. It may serve as some 
excuse for me to state that I fully intended to make Ferra 
Dontrange my wife.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed Dagobert, greatly astonished. 

“ Do you not consider that fact sufficient proof of the 
purity of my intentions? ” 

“ Certainly, certainly! It is a pity that my wife could 
not have heard what you just said.” 

“ I am more than willing to repeat it in the presence of 
her highness.” 

The prince hastily pressed a little silver bell. 

“Inquire if her highness will receive Prince Arbanoff 
and myself,” he said to the footman. 

Prince Dagobert was perfectly well aware of one thing, 
and indeed was ever ready to admit it, viz., that his wife, 
with all her faults, certainly possessed the courage of her 
opinions, and would never stoop to screen herself behind 
any sophistry. Nor was he mistaken in this instance, for 
the two gentlemen soon received a reply in the affirmative. 

“Prince Arbanoff brings us the much-desired explana- 
tion, ’’remarked Dagobert, with a wave of the hand toward 
his companion. 

“Indeed!” Sibylle responded, incredulously, for it is 


224 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


needless to say that she was not at all anxious to hear these 
scandalous reports contradicted. 

Achilles repeated what he had already said so often. The 
princess merely bowed her head. 

“ I understand you would very naturally feel a strong 
desire to screen your father’s wife,” she remarked. 

“ You are very much mistaken, your Highness; even for 
my father’s sake I would not stoop to misrepresent the 
facts of the case.” 

“Ah! you are a man of principle, I see,” exclaimed the 
princess, scornfully, and with a sneering laugh. 

“Most assuredly, your Highness; and one of the chief 
and foremost which I possess, I trust, is that which would 
induce me to accord sympathy and respect to an innocent 
and unprotected woman. You may rest assured that I 
shall chastise, as he deserves, the scoundrel who has dared 
to basely slander one I hold sacred.” 

“That is, when you discover who the offender is,” 
retorted Sibylle, contemptuously. 

“ I know already, your Highness. He will not escape 
punishment, you may rest assured.” The words were 
uttered so coolly, and almost indifferently, that the princess 
would have smiled, had there not been something about 
this man that made her vaguely uneasy. 

“ If I had not found the princess bound by other, and 
apparently much happier, ties, I should not have hesitated 
for an instant to offer her my hand,” he continued; “but 
under the circumstances, there is nothing left for me to do 
but confine myself to the rble of a devoted friend. Late 
repentance amounts to very little.” 

“ But the Princess Arbanoff is now free,” remarked the 
princess. “ I understand that Count Rommingen has 
resigned all claim to her hand.” 

“You have been misinformed, your Highness, for I can 
testify to the fact that the two lovers are fully reconciled, 
and unspeakably happy.” 

“Ah! you have had visual evidence of this?” exclaimed 
Sibylle, tying her lace handkerchief up in a hard knot. 

Achilles bowed. 

“Rommingen is right,” interrupted Prince Dagobert; 
“ he would have been a fool to act otherwise.” 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


225 


“A fool, indeed,” repeated Achilles. The princess alone 
remained silent. She felt that she had rather die than say 
a friendly word in regard to her rival. 

Achilles was hardly out of the room before Prince 
Dagobert turned angrily upon his wife: 

“ You should have done everything possible to atone for 
the mischief you have made,” he said, angrily. “What on 
earth am I to do? Invite myself to the wedding, so I may 
have a chance to offer the bride my best wishes? It may 
be a slight reparation to her, very slight.” 

“You can do as you- please,” retorted his wife, scornfully. 

Never had the whole race of men seemed to her so petty 
and contemptible as since she had learned of Rommingen’s 
degeneracy. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Within the park limits, but only about three-quarters of 
a mile from the heart of the city, is a beautiful secluded 
spot where the velvety turf extends to the very margin of 
a blue lake whose waters dance and sparkle gaily in the 
bright spring sunshine. One side of the lake is bordered 
with trees whose branches hang deep down into the water, 
where a pair of swans glide majestically about. The 
foliage looks wonderfully fresh and verdant as the sunlight 
streams through it, the birds twitter gaily and carol their 
sweetest songs, and a wonderful freshnevss seems to pervade 
the place as well as the deep-blue sky that smiles down 
upon it. 

Not far from the shore of the lake, two gleaming 
swords have just been stuck perpendicularly in the sod. 
They quiver slightly under their own weight, and behind 
each weapon stands an irreproachably attired gentleman. 
The seconds have completed their task; the first word of 
warning has been uttered. Achilles Arbanoff suddenly 
makes a deprecatory gesture, and advances a step or two 
toward his adversary, his pistol held in his right hand, 
which hangs loosely by his side. 

“ Anatole Leroy,” he calls out, and though his voice is 
not loud, it rings out clear and musical as the stroke of a 
16 


226 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


bell, “ only one of us will leave this spot alive. This is to 
be a duel to the death. No mercy will be shown. Either 
you or I must die.” 

Leroy makes a hasty movement, as if with the intention 
of shooting down his opponent then and there, but he con- 
quers the murderous impulse, and the two men resume 
their positions. The word of command is given; two shots 
ring out simultaneously upon the quiet air. 

The anxious seconds fancy that both opponents totter 
slightly, but a shake of the head is the only answer the 
principals make when hastily questioned. As they stand 
thus confronting each other, all Anatole’s secret hatred 
and Achilles’ deep contempt become intensified. Leroy 
compresses his lips; Achilles is seized with an intense dis- 
gust for all mankind, even for life itself. 

The swans, who had been frightened away by the first 
interchange of shots, again approach the shore. Again the 
signal is given, and again two tiny clouds of smoke mount 
slowly upward. The double report, though by no means 
loud, again frightens the swans away. Achilles and Leroy 
are both lying on the ground, and their life- blood is red- 
dening the turf beneath them. It looks like tiny drops of 
red dew on the short grass. 

Both men are lifted and laid near each other under the 
shadow of a giant oak. The combat is ended. Anatole 
gasps for breath — the bullet has penetrated the lung, and 
every breath brings him nearer his end. 

“There is no hope,” says the physician to Von Nobbe, 
as he looks up after a hasty examination of the wound. 

No hope! The dying man must have heard the words, 
for he shudders slightly, and his gaze roves wildly about, 
as if death were full of horrors for him. 

Achilles Arbanoff’s thread of life is likewise severed; he, 
too, is dying. Perhaps he had foreseen this, for with a 
shake of the head he declines all medical attention, but his 
face is just as placid and unmoved as ever. 

Von Nobbe leans over Leroy. 

“Prince Arbanoff, too, must die,” he whispers, as if that 
would prove some consolation. 

Anatole becomes more and more agitated. His usual 
coolness deserts him; eternity, with all its terrors, is close 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


227 


at hand. With a painful effort, he turns himself so he 
can see Achilles. He must make peace with some one, at 
any cost, for his sins seem to wax greater and greater 
as his vision grows dim. 

“Achilles,” he gasps out, “death expiates — let us — 
reconciled — eternity — your hand, Achilles, give — ” He 
shrieks out the last word, so intense is the agony it costs 
him; the blood spurts from his wound, as with one last 
effort he lifts his hand. 

Achilles gazes at him coldly, with eyes wide open, then 
turns his back upon him, implacable to the last. 

A convulsive shudder shakes Leroy from head to foot, 
then his limbs stiffen. He is dead. 

Achilles gives his youthful second a look that brings him 
quickly to his side. 

“I am not sorry to die,” he whispered; “my life has 
been useless and aimless. It leaves no gap behind, so the 
end might come when it would. Do not let Ferra hear of 
my death; it might mar her happiness. For me everything 
came too late, too late! ” 

The sunlight forces its way through the oak leaves and 
there is a fitful play of light and shadow on the turf, and 
on the dead and the dying. Achilles gazes with strange in- 
tentness on the objects around him, and the longer he gazes, 
the larger his eyes seem to become; the wider the lids seem 
to open. A thrush is warbling sweetly in the tree above 
his head; the balmy spring breeze plays softly on his pale 
forehead. An unearthly light beams in his wide-open eyes, 
a peaceful smile steals over his face. The flood of melody 
continues, the swans circle majestically round and round on 
the little lake, and in the bright sunlight and soft spring 
air Achilles Arbanoff’s earthly career ends but the smile 
does not leave his lips. 


228 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

The whole town of D was in a state of wild excite- 

ment. 

In spite of the strenuous efforts which had been made to 
keep the duel a secret, the news of it spread with marvelous 
rapidity. The only person who knew nothing about it, but 
who was severely blamed as the cause of it, was Ferra 
herself. Rommingen, Eustace, and Frau von Bogdanoff 
all united in the endeavor to keep the deplorable affair 
from her. She had thought it very strange that Achilles 

did not come to bid her good-by before leaving D , 

but consoled herself by the recollection that he had always 
been eccentric, and Detlef’s devotion kept her from attach- 
ing much importance to the matter. It seemed to Rom- 
mingen that Ferra now really belonged to him wholly and 
unreservedly for the first time. That intangible something 
which had caused him so much uneasiness in the past was 
now explained, and he saw that his betrothed would be sure 
to conform to his tastes and wishes eventually, while he, in 
turn, was much more patient with her petty foibles now 
the strength of their mutual love had been tested, and 
they knew for a certainty that nothing could part them. 

Eustace von Deuren resigned his position as adjutant, 
although not until after he had complacently undergone 
a short term of imprisonment, as a punishment for the 
part he had taken in the duel. In fact, he assured Detlef 
that so far as he himself was concerned, he would not 
have things different if he could, so proud was he of the 
victory over evil which Achilles had won at the cost of his 
life. 

Frau von Bogdanoff rubs her hands, shakes her head 
ominously, and declares that life is becoming something 
terrible. 

Fraulein von Nobbe is in the depths of despair, for her 
beloved brother was not only forced to undergo the same 
punishment as Von Deuren for his participation in the duel. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


229 


but had also been transferred, by special order, to an 
infantry regiment stationed in the provinces, without any 
prospect of a return from this enforced exile. 

“ It is all Neukirch’s fault,” declares Amanda, with tears 
streaming down her cheeks, as she implores the princess to 
exert her influence in Erdmann’s favor. 

Prince Dagobert hears his wife’s protest to the end, and 
then says quietly: 

“ You have entire control of the persons of your house- 
hold, Sibylle, and you must allow me the same privilege 
with regard to my officers. Send Fraulein von Nobbe off 
with her brother if she can not live without him.” 

The princess is very indignant, but she is obliged to dis- 
appoint her friend and confidante by declining to interfere 
further in the matter, and Erdmann von Nobbe is likely to 
have plenty of time to discover that he has greatly over- 
estimated his sister’s influence. 

With these few exceptions, everything at the court of 

D remains unchanged. The gulf between the royal 

couple is not likely to be bridged over, for the princess 
seems to become more and more influenced by gossips and 
backbiters like the Von Nobbes, and the prince is more inti- 
mate than ever with his old friend Neukirch, who has not 
so much as a single wrinkle or gray hair more by reason 
of the tempests that have convulsed the Court of D . 

Society has fulfilled Frau von Bogdanoff’s prophecy con- 
cerning it. Attentions of every sort and kind were lavished 
upon the two ladies; their home was besieged with callers. 

What a despicable world it is! ” remarks Maria Pau- 
lowna, contemptuously. “ Every one must buy his way in 
.some shape or other. There is no real independence to be 
found anywhere.” 

Contrary to the expectations of people in general, Rom- 
mingen’s marriage was a very quiet affair. Only a small 
number of guests was invited, among them Eustace von 
Deuren, who was graciously released for the occasion 
through Prince Dagobert’s intercession. 

Shortly before the beginning of the ceremony, his high- 
ness made his appearance with a magnificent bouquet, 
which he presented to the bride. 

“ My best wishes will attend you both,” he said, ear- 


230 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


nestly, imprinting a kiss upon her beautiful hand. “You 
will be very happy, I know, and — and I will try not to envy 
you your good fortune, but rejoice at it,” he added, stifling 
a sigh. 

“And yet the much-admired Princess Arbanoff has hon- 
ored a mere nobody with her preference, after all, your High- 
ness,” remarked Detlef, “for I am really only a plain 
country squire, Ferra,” he adds gaily, glancing down at his 
black coat. 

“ But behind the country squire stands my Detlef; don’t 
neglect to mention that fact,” she retorts, with the old- 
time mischievousness in look and voice. 

Maria Paulowna is very quiet, and even sad. It costs her 
a bitter pang to part from Ferra, and* for the first time in 
her life solitude appalls her. Her eyes fill with tears, 
although nothing on earth could make her admit it, when 
she embraces the bride. D has suddenly become hate- 

ful to her, and she has all at once decided to travel for 
a while. 

“Come with us. Pussy,” begs Ferra, but Frau von Bog- 
danoff shakes her head. 

“ A nice idea, to play third party to a young married 
couple!” she exclaims, energetically, trying to make it 
appear that she is thinking only of her own comfort. 
“ After a year, perhaps; yes, after a year.” 

Three persons are enjoying themselves on the castle 
terrace at Erdenflueh the following spring. Ferra and 
Detlef are standing by the balustrade, in the shade of the 
ancestral trees; Maria Paulowna is partaking of some light 
refreshments at a table a short distance from them. She 
has been at Erdenflueh a month, and is so well contented 
that she preaches herself a sermon every morning on the 
necessity of speedy departure; but Detlef and Ferra, good 
children, will not listen to anything of the kind. 

“ Dearest,” says the young countess, laying her hand 
fondly on her husband’s shoulder, after a hasty glance has 
satisfied her that her cousin is too much occupied to notice 
them, “ I have a confession to make to you.” 

Detlef smiles. He knows his wife’s way. She does 
nothing without first finding out whether it has his full 
approval. 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


231 


“What have you been doing now, my darling?” he asks, 
tenderly. 

“ I am so happy, Detlef.” Tears sparkle in the lustrous 
eyes uplifted to his. “And whom have 1 to thank for this 
happiness? Achilles Arbanoff, for where and what should 
1 have been but for him? So I have been writing to him 
this afternoon to tell him so, and to invite him to visit us 
at Erdenflueh. The letter is on my writing-table. Will 
you read it? ” 

Detlef does not answer immediately, but gazes out fix- 
edly into the park. Ferra places both her hands on his 
shoulder, and continues, “Even if he does not come, he 
will be glad to know that I am grateful to him. Don’t you 
think so, Detlef? ” ' 

Rommingen shakes his head. 

“ No, my darling, don’t send your letter,” he replies, 
drawing his young wife closer. “ It would not reach 
Achilles.” 

“ Why not? If he is traveling, the letter may not reach 
him immediately, but he will be sure to get it sooner or 
later. He will at least know that we have not forgotten 
him.” 

“Achilles has gone to that unknown land whence no 
traveler ever returns, my dearest.” 

“Dead? Good heavens! dead! and I never even heard 
of it! ” 

“It was his wish that the fact should be kept a secret 
from you. He died in D ” 

“Oh! ” she exclaimed, greatly shocked. “Then he did 
not die, he was killed! Leroy killed him! Is it not so?” 

“You are right. He fell in a duel with Leroy.” 

“ ddiat infamous scoundrel!” 

“ He, too, is dead, Ferra.” 

She shuddered, and leaned her head upon his breast. 
His arm encircles her tenderly. 

“ Do not take it so to heart, my darling,” he says, sooth- 
ingly. 

“It was all on my account, all on my account,” she 
exclaims, bursting into passionate sobs. “ I was the cause 
of it. Poor Achilles! his whim made me rich and happy, but 
it cost him his life. Poor Achilles! ” 


232 


THE FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 


“Weep, dearest,” whispers Detlef, stroking her golden 
hair tenderly. “Your tears are an honor to him and to 
you.” 

Maria Paulowna, seeing that something is amiss with the 
young people, hastens up to them, ruthlessly dragging her 
laces over the stone flags of the terrace. 

“Poor Achilles! ’’exclaims Ferra again. Then, perceiv- 
ing her cousin, she turns to her, her eyes streaming with tears, 
and sobs out: 

“ I never shall cease to reproach myself; never! ” 

Frau von Bogdanoff kisses her affectionately. 

“Nonsense, child!” she exclaims, in her emphatic way. 
“We can not foresee the consequences of our every act. 
One man dies, another lives, that is the common fate of 
mortals. We will keep him in loving remembrance; that is 
more than falls to the lot of most people.” 

“ That I will,” Ferra answers, softly, even reverently, 
and Detlef clasps even more closely the little hand that 
rests so confidingly in his. 


THE END. 










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